


Blind Eyes

by BlankSpaceArt



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Familiars, Horror, Humor, Hurt Stephen Strange, M/M, Magic, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter is the only competent one, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Sentient Infinity Stones (Marvel), They're all wizards in this, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange Parenting Peter Parker | Supremefamily | Strange Family, Worldbuilding, everyone else is useless and gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:40:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29516157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlankSpaceArt/pseuds/BlankSpaceArt
Summary: *HORROR ELEMENTS, ANGST, INJURIES AHEAD. DISCRECTION ADVISED.*Hundreds of years after a worldwide catastrophe, society has rebuilt itself. This is a world of magic and mysteries, power and possession.A young wizard finds himself in the middle of a plot much bigger than he could ever imagine...
Relationships: Peter Parker & Stephen Strange, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Comments: 12
Kudos: 14





	1. Part One: Broken Seals

_ Shit, shit, shit. _

Frantic footsteps echo in the dusty inner sanctum, accompanied by heavy breathing. Peter runs through the hallways back out to the library, hearing the hum of magic close behind him, closing in. He grips the bronze artifact tighter. 

A bolt of orange, crackling energy strikes the wall beside him as he ducks into the library, quickly hiding between shelves of old tomes. The young wizard hides best he can, wide eyes full of fear as he peers between the shelves, listening to the hum get louder, and louder. It rings in his ears, like hundreds of voices screaming at him to run. 

He tentatively peeks out from behind the bookcase, trying to catch another glimpse of what's chasing him. 

The thing looks human. And maybe it was, once upon a time. But not anymore. Glowing golden eyes peer from a face thin with neglect. Black and silver hair once slicked back is now long and messy. The thing moves oddly, like it no longer controls its limbs, or like several things are controlling the body at once, with different goals, moving it every direction at once. It twitches and lurches as it walks, orange power crackling around its hands and feet with every slow, lumbering step. 

Peter has heard tales of corpses being reanimated, but.. this isnt that. This is something... much worse. 

Hes reminded of the story his mentor told him, of the young wizard that went missing in searching for true mastery of the art of magic. He cant help but think this.. thing.. looks like how Tony said his old partner looked. Just.. older, and... lost. 

" _ You do not belong here, child. Return our Sight and leave this place. _ " The thing speaks again, thousands of voices booming at once. 

Peter grips the thing in his hand tighter, knuckles turning white.  _ No. If it wants it so bad, it has to be important. _

He ducks back behind the shelf as the thing wrenches its head around to face where hes hiding. 

" _ We can sense you, child. Return our Sight. _ " 

_ Sight? Why sight? Is it blind without this? _ Peter looks down at the artifact, briefly studying the bronze. He's interrupted by a bolt of energy striking by his feet, making him yelp in surprise and bolt through the shelves. He summons up what little magic he has left and sends it to his feet, begging them to move faster. His muscles burn with the added surge of energy, but he keeps running anyway, chased by lightning strikes of powerful magic. 

_ Please, I'm almost there, please, please, please- _

He lunges for the door, feeling something wrap around his ankles, stopping him in his tracks and yanking him back, slamming him on the ground. He gasps for air, clawing at the tiled floor to try and resist as he's dragged back away from the door to the sanctum. 

_ No, no, no no no- _

He manages to flip himself over, trying to kick off the tendrils of orange tightly wrapped around his legs. The magic burns into his skin through his pants. He winces, reaching down to try and pull them off, hot energy searing into his hands as the tendrils pull him closer to where the thing waits, fingers outstretched to take the artifact in his hand. 

Thinking quickly, he slips the chain of the artifact around his neck, freeing up both his hands to pull at the bonds. As he gets closer to the thing, he grits his teeth, summoning every last drop of energy he has to release it all at once. Terrible idea, maybe, but it might just work. 

He lets out a yell as he releases all of his magic, knocking the thing back and launching him back toward the door, the tendrils disintegrating. He hits the door with a thud, knocking the wind from his lungs. Peter blinks a few times to regain his senses, immediately moving to frantically get the door open, wheezing in the musty air. 

His fingers fumble for a long moment, before he gets the deadbolt to turn and yanks open the door, bolting out into the streets. He's followed by an unearthly scream from within the temple, cut off as the door slams back shut on it's own. 

Peter comes to a stop and puts his hands on his knees, panting. He's safe.. for now, at least.

He looks back toward the temple. From the outside, it looks like an apartment building, blending in perfectly with the buildings either side of it. A big red sign magically flickers between 'CONDEMNED' and 'DO NOT ENTER' on the door. 

He can feel the thing's eyes still on him. Watching him. He shudders. 

"And just what are you doing all the way out here?" Peter is startled by his mentor's voice suddenly speaking from behind him. He hastily hides the artifact in his hoodie before turning around. 

Tony stands in front of him, hands on his hips, one eyebrow raised. His actual eyes are hidden by his sunglasses. They always are. 

"Well? What are you doing out here? Especially at this hour?" Tony huffs. 

Peter realizes it's still the middle of the night, despite feeling like he'd been in there for an eternity. "I was, uh.. practicing spells!" *Great lie, doofus.* 

"Practicing spells. Away from the dorms. In the middle of Old Town." 

"..Yyyes." 

Tony looks the young wizard up and down, his other eyebrow rising to join its brother, "Geez, kid, what happened to you? You look like you had a run in with the Ancient One." 

He must look bad if the non-superstitious Tony is mentioning the Ancient One. 

"I uh, had some backfires," Peter mumbles. 

Tony just sighs, "Just get back to the dorms before Pepper gets on me about losing you again." 

"Yessir!" Peter awkwardly salutes, pulling his sling ring from his pocket. It takes a moment, and causes a couple sparks from his fingers, but he pulls enough energy from around him to make a small portal back into his room. Tony watches him to make sure he goes through it. 

Only when Peter has vanished does Tony look back at the building in front of him, peering at it. He reaches to slowly take off his sunglasses. 

Glowing green eyes fix themselves on the disguised temple, "Kid... what did you see in there?" Tony shakes his head, putting his glasses back on and turning away. 

Behind him, a pale hand presses against one of the windows. 

. . . 

Peter lays in his bedroom, staring at the ceiling. Old glow-in-the-dark stickers glow dimly on the ceiling. How long has it been, since it all? Had it.. really even happened? The ancient relic from the that odd temple on his desk says yes, but... it never felt real. 

That temple... it looked so.. normal, on the outside. 

He wonders how he even got out alive. Those... weird.. golden eyes... the.. orange circles of magic.. the coils.. he shivers at the memory. 

He doesnt know what that thing was, but it wasnt a normal wizard. And the thing he was guarding... is definitely not a normal relic.

He looks back at the relic on his side table, reaching to grab it again. 

_ There has to be something with this, right? It can't be nothing _ .

He carefully studies the bronze artifact, running his fingers over the overlapping pieces. It looks like it should move... 

He spends the rest of the night trying to open it, first magically, and then manually. Nothing works. 

As the sun rises outside his window the next morning, he groans and sets it down, rubbing his face. What is he missing? The knock at the door for morning classes brings him back to the real world. He sighs, getting up out of bed and changing clothes, wincing as a fresh pair of jeans scrape over the still fresh burns on his legs. 

. . . 

The day is a blur, background noise to his thoughts. He can't stop thinking about that artifact. What even is it? What does it do? Why was that thing so protective of it? What did it mean 'Sight'? Is it actual sight, or something else? 

His thoughts lead him back to the face of the creature, person, whatever it might be now. A gaunt, pale face framed by messy hair. Glowing golden eyes that looked like they know everything. He tries to recall its behavior. It walked around, sure, but it seemed to only be kept upright by that cloak around its shoulders. 

" _ Return it, boy. _ " 

Peter jumps at his desk, hitting the bottom of it with his knees, gritting his teeth in pain. He looks around, gripping his thighs where he had hit the burns, trying to find the source of the voice. No one else is in the room. He takes a deep breath. Of course no one else is here, this is his room, on the 5th floor. Why would anyone be here? 

_ THUNK!  _

The sound of something large hitting the window startles the boy out of his chair, hitting the ground with a symphony of crashing furniture. He sits up, confused and scared, peering at the window from behind his turned over chair. 

A familiar furry face peers back at him with green eyes. He breathes a soft sigh of relief, getting up and going to open the window, "It's just you, Loki. You really scared me." The boy reaches to pet the black cat as it confidently pads inside, meowing at him. The green collar around the familiar's neck stands out against the long dark fur. 

Peter closes the window behind his familiar, "I was wondering where you got off to. You don't usually stay away that long." He's mostly talking to himself, the cat simply blinking slowly at him. 

_ I have got to stop talking to my cat. _

He scratches behind the cat’s ears. Loki purrs in appreciation, waving a fluffy tail. Peter goes to pick his chair up from its place tipped over on the floor, feeling something rattle against his chest. He frowns a bit, looking down, pulling the artifact from its place in his hoodie. The overlapping bronze decals are rattling in their casings, the lids of the inner working trying to open. He catches glimpses of something bright green within. 

_ Is that what it was after? What is that?  _ He peers closer at it, reaching to try and pry it open again with his thumbs. Sparks of energy wrap around his hands, keeping him in place as the artifact opens, bright green light blinding him as the artifact gazes deep into his soul. 

_ “Free the unworthy and return us to our proper place, child.”  _

He manages to free up his muscles to drop the artifact, it hitting the floor with a clatter as he stumbles back, falling on the floor, hands reflexively coming up to his eyes. 

All he can see is green. All he can hear, is screaming. Thousands of voices, all yelling in unison. Thousands of languages, old and new, from all across the ages. All screaming the same thing. 

**_“LET ME OUT.”_ **

. . . 

Two wizards stand in front of a temple. One is a head taller than the other, but they have similarly colored dark hair and light skin. 

The heavy wooden doors sit in front of them, a softly glowing seal branded into the center of the double doors. The smaller man steps up to the doors, placing his hands on it. A circle of green magic blossoms from his hands, and slowly the seal fades away, the doors slowly swinging inward. 

The interior of the temple is dark and musty, the footsteps of the pair kicking up dust clouds as they head inside. 

"What do you think is actually in here?" The taller wizard asks as he makes a group of small orange lanterns to float around them, illuminating the old relics all around them. 

"Treasure, maybe. Something magic if we're lucky," The smaller man replies, poking around at everything. 

"And if we're not lucky?" 

"Probably a monster." 

"How reassuring," The taller man grimaces, "You give great pep talks, Tony." 

"Its a gift, my dear Stephen," Tony bows dramatically, hitting his head on a shelf in doing so. 

Stephen snorts a laugh at the thud. Tony grumbles as he rubs his head. 

The two wander deeper into the inner sanctum of the temple, coming across the large library surrounding the core of the building. Fascinated, they wander through the shelves, picking books at random to look closer at. 

Stephen wanders deeper into the library as Tony reads a tome that seems to tell of summoning proper demons, coming upon a carved metal column in the center of the circular room. He peers at it curiously, moving closer to it. The carvings along the metal reach all the way up to the ceiling far above him, and they glow a soft orange as he approaches, seeming to shift and writhe, beckoning him closer. 

He tilts his head to one side, reaching out to touch the metal.

"Hey, whatcha find there, Stephen?" Tony's voice startles him from his stupor, and he hastily pulls his hand away. 

"Oh, uh, just a weird support beam. Must be keeping this place from falling into disrepair," He looks up toward the ceiling. 

Tony hums, "Well it seems like theres nothing here but old wizard books. Guess we came in here for nothing." 

"There's no way this is it. Maybe something.. opens up more of the temple. It's not like just books are worth keeping under lock and key," Stephen reaches toward the column again, "Maybe this is a door." 

The orange markings flash bright white as he touches it, blinding them both and flinging Stephen backward with a surge of energy. He hits a bookshelf with a loud thud, slumping to the ground. 

"Stephen!" Tony squints as he stumbles over to the other, "You okay?" 

As Stephen sits up, groaning, they hear rumbling from deeper within the temple, the sound of a heavy stone door opening. And.. an unearthly screech as something older than Time awakens. 

The two wizards look at each other. 

"Run?" 

"Run." 

Tony gets up first, helping the bruised Stephen to his feet. They make their way back through the library, a buzzing slowly getting louder in their ears. Stephen wheezes as he tries to keep a quick pace, gripping his ribs. Despite Tony's best efforts to stay by his side, another screech from close by makes him bolt ahead, Stephen falling behind. 

They make it back out into the main foyer, where the oak doors are shut and blocked by a toppled statue. Tony sprints forward and starts trying to move the pieces, Stephen shambling in after. 

"There has to be another exit," Stephen wheezes behind him, hands on his knees.

"We couldn't get in any of the windows, why would we be able to get out through one?" Tony manages to magically move one of the large stone pieces, just a little bit. The hum in their ears is getting louder by the second. 

Stephen whips around as something screams behind them, faced with something he'd never seen before. 

A mass of magic energy stalks toward them, in the form of a many-headed hydra, dragging it's long body along the floor with its forearms. The heads move and writhe around and through one another like the markings on the column had. It glows that same orange. 

"Tony.. I think we found why this place was locked up," Stephen takes a step back, summoning some protective circles. 

"Almost.. got it.." Tony grunts as he focuses on the statue, "Keep it distracted!" 

Stephen glances over his shoulder to offer a reply, but is interrupted as the thing lunges, wrapping tendril-like tails around him tightly. He cries out in pain as the tendrils burn into his flesh. 

"Stephen!" Tony immediately turns to help, lunging and lashing out with magic whips. The thing recoils, screeching and dropping Stephen. The whips crack against its magic hide like bolts of lightning hitting the ground. 

It turns toward Tony, lunging at him instead, Tony quickly backpedaling and doing his best to fend off the thing's many tendrils. He ends up backed up against the statue, the thing blocking his ways around as it drags itself closer. The humming overwhelms his senses as it gets too close for comfort. 

It's nearly upon him when a crack of energy strikes it from behind, causing it to turn and face its assailant. 

"Come and get me, you big lizard!" Stephen yells, snapping another bolt at it and sprinting back down the hall, toward the library. It roars, sprinting after him. 

Tony takes a second to catch his breath, heartbeat becoming audible in his ears again as the thing moves away. 

_ Okay, he bought us some time. Now what?  _ He frantically looks around, plunging headfirst into the hall opposite the hall to the library. He runs into a large room full of ancient artifacts, most of which have lost their magic by now. The artifacts that still have their magic are shaking in their displays, matching the hum that fills the air. 

Tony sprints into the room, going from artifact to artifact, seeing if any could be used to lock the thing back away. None seem right. He throws down the reptilian skull in his hands with a yell of frustration, pulling at his hair as he tries to think. 

_ Ker-thunk  _

_ R a t t l e  _

He turns to face the sounds, wary, expecting the creature again. Instead, the source of the sounds is an armor display case, holding some kind of cape and a chestplate. The cape seems to be moving all on it's own, hitting the glass paneling and rattling the chestplate. Tony warily approaches, pressing one hand to the glass and peering in. 

The cloak is a deep red with gold trim, the armor a matching gold color with bronze inlays. In the center, is an eye-shaped figure of some kind. Tony squints at it, trying to make out the details, when suddenly it opens, blinding him with bright green light. 

_ "We can aid you. Release the Cloak." _ The voices are loud in his head as he stumbles back, rubbing at his eyes. When he opens them again, everything is tinted red. He steps back up to the display case, taking a deep breath. 

_ It's worth a shot.  _

He pulls at the handle, yanking the door open, getting knocked back onto his back as the cloak flies out, the armor clattering to the ground, the eye-shaped artifact coming free and skidding to a stop at his feet. The cloak flies back down the hall, Tony grabbing the Eye and sprinting after it. 

They end up at the center of the library, where Stephen is holding his own against the hydra, keeping it at bay with his magic. The Cloak flies to wrap itself around Stephen's shoulders, Stephen panicking for a moment, losing his focus. 

The hydra lunges and grabs him again, its many heads screeching in unison. Tony has to cover his ears to manage it. 

Stephen tries to struggle in its grip, jaw tightly clenched in pain as the burning tendrils grasp him again. His clothes begin to smoke. 

The Eye rattles in Tony's grip, forcing him to lift it toward the thing. It opens again, bathing the thing and Stephen in green light. They both scream, the sound echoing throughout the sanctum. 

The hydra is the first to yield… it turns and plunges straight into Stephen's chest. The clasps on the Cloak glow gold, and golden chains immediately appear across him. Stephen screams in pain, flailing about, hitting the floor and continuing to writhe. 

Tony tries to run to him, but the Eye in his hand becomes ice cold, freezing his muscles in place. Green magic crawls up his arm, burning itself into his eyes after crawling up his neck. He yelps and finally drops the Eye, staggering away, vision full of green sparks. He eventually collapses, hands over his face. 

_ "We helped you. Now you will help us."  _ The words echo around in his mind as he loses consciousness. 

. . . 

Peter groans softly, slowly pushing himself up off the floor, rubbing his eyes. He lifts his head, looking around. He’s in a very old building, everything covered in a thick layer of dust. Including his clothes. How long had he been here? He winces as a painful headache washes over him, pressing a hand to his head. It comes away bloody. 

_ How did I get here? What happened to me?  _

Where is “here”, exactly? 

He gets to his feet, staggering over to a window to try and see where this building is. Outside, everything is grainy and unstable, like looking through an old TV screen. He frowns in confusion, “Okay, that’s definitely not normal…” 

Another wave of pain washes over him from his forehead. He reaches up to try and heal it, his magic sparking against it painfully. He yelps, pulling away. Shaking his head, he turns his attention back to the window, pressing a hand to the warm glass as he searches for the latch on the window. 

The glass ripples under his hand after a moment, becoming opaque and..  _ fleshy _ . Peter hastily pulls away as the window becomes a giant eye, opening to fix the boy in a bright green stare. 

_ “You are awake.”  _ The words echo in his mind. 

Peter manages to regain his wits, “What do you want? Let me go!” 

_ “The Red Warrior failed to return our favor. Now you will undo what we have done for him.”  _

“The what?” Peter takes a step back from the eye. 

_ “The Temple of Time houses a great evil. Untamed, wild magic. You have the ability to tame it.”  _

The boy looks skeptical, “And how would I even do that? I’m just a student.” 

_ “Untapped potential is greater than any might, child.”  _ The eye blinks slowly, unnervingly,  _ “You will wield us, and correct what has been wronged.”  _

Peter looks down at his hands. Bruised, scarred from clumsy fingers, large burns covering the palms of them. “I think you have the wrong kid.” 

The eye closes, melting back into the wall. A moment later, a figure rises from the dusty floorboards, almost angelic in appearance, inhuman, composed of rings and clock pieces and eyes. So many eyes. They all open, looking back at him again. 

_ “Timelines merely end differently. They all start the same. These timelines all start with you.”  _

Peter hesitates, quiet for a long moment, “....What am I even supposed to do? Like, how do I.. help you?” 

The creature moves to wrap itself around him, circling him with its many pieces,  _ “Wield us in the waking world. We will tell you what to do.”  _

“What about my mentor? Shouldn’t he know?” 

_ “You must keep us a secret. There are powers that would use us for evil, if they knew we were outside of our Temple.”  _

“..Right. Of course,” Peter grimaces, wincing with another wave of headache. He presses his hand back to the wound on his forehead. 

The thing pulls back, watching him with something akin to curiosity,  _ “It would be best to wake up now, child.”  _

“Wake up? So I am dreaming?” The young wizard looks around at the empty, dusty room. He looks back to the creature, finding that he’s alone again. He hears something quietly, almost like something is calling to him from outside the building. He looks around, confused, trying to find where the sound came from. 

It happens again, louder this time, sounding almost like his name. Peter moves toward the window, trying to look out to see if someone’s calling to him. 

“Peter!” Tony’s voice is quiet, distant as he calls again. 

“Sir?” Peter looks toward the ceiling. He hears Tony call his name again after a moment, the floor beginning to slowly crumble at the edges, falling into nothingness below. He reflexively backs away from the disappearing floor, ending up slipping and falling backward into darkness anyway. 

“Peter! Can you hear me, kid? Are you okay?” Tony’s face is all he sees as he opens his eyes, able to make out his reflection in his mentor’s glasses. Peter groans softly, trying to turn over, stopped by Tony’s hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, stay still, you hit the ground hard.” Tony softens his voice, relieved that Peter is even alive. 

“...Ow….M’ head…” The young wizard reaches to rub his forehead. His hand finds that same wound, or at least the blood that shows it was there. 

"What happened? People heard a crash from here and you were on the floor bleeding when I got here," Tony sits back again.

"...Must've fell…" Peter mumbles, moving to slowly sit up. He feels the weight of the Eye in his hoodie pocket shift as he does. 

"Looked like it," His mentor gestures to the nearby cabinet, the corner of it bloody, "You probably hit your head as you went down. Do you know why you fell?" 

"..Tripped?" Peter offers, gaze darting around to search for something he could've tripped over. Dark chocolate colored eyes land on an askew stack of books.  _ Perfect _ . "Over those," He points… and suddenly realizes the books are in fact nowhere near the cabinet. 

Tony looks over his shoulder at the books, then at the cabinet, then turns back to face his student, "You tripped. Over the books. All the way over there." 

"Yyyes." 

Neither person in the room believes this. 

Tony just sighs, helping the boy to his feet, running one hand through his messy, graying hair, "I still wonder why May trusted you with me when she passed." 

"Why wouldn't she? You're practically my dad," Peter gives him a confused look. 

Tony's eyebrows make an escape attempt up his forehead. Peter clears his throat and looks away from Tony's reflective sunglasses. 

There's silence for a long and uncomfortable moment, before Tony speaks again, "We should get you to the infirmary. Just in case I missed something." 

"No!" Peter's hasty reply isn't his own, "I mean, I feel fine. I can go in tomorrow if I feel bad." 

The young wizard feels his mentor's eyes narrow behind the glasses, "....Alright. Just this once." 

"Mhm!" Peter nods emphatically. 

Tony stands back up, helping the boy to his feet, ruffling his messy brown hair. "Geez, you need to stop worrying me so much. I'm old, my poor heart can't take it." He grips his chest dramatically. 

"Sorry, sir. I promise I didn't mean to," Peter grins. 

"Just try to avoid repeating that Wendy's incident and we'll be fine," Tony jokes, "Go get yourself cleaned up, alright?" 

"It was one time!" Peter groans as he steps away, toward the bathroom. 

"It was an  _ entire _ Wendy's." 

Peter blows a passive aggressive raspberry, shutting the bathroom door, relaxing as hes finally out of sight again. He turns to face the sink first, looking into the mirror to assess the damage. Or whatever damage there was. 

The half-dried blood has wrapped around his head, probably starting in the back somewhere and dripping to the right. He reaches to find the biggest mass of dried blood, finding a long strip of it across the base of his skull. A subconscious wince comes up as he feels the now-obsolete scabbing. 

Peter decides a shower is probably in order, reaching to take off his jacket, finding the Eye is.. no longer in his pocket. He panics, frantically looking around, peeking back out of the bathroom. Tony seems to be gone now, but theres no sign of the Eye anywhere on the floor. 

_ "Do not panic, child. I have taken a new form to be less… obvious."  _ The voice echoes in his head, ringing in his ears. 

Peter jumps, knocking into the bathroom door, hastily shutting it again and sitting on the bathroom floor. 

"You..  _ changed shape? _ " He looks around his body, trying to find the bronze artifact. He feels a soft buzz around his throat, making him look down and reach to feel what caused it. He finds a tight fitting necklace, made of bronze ovals carved to look like eyes, some open and some closed. The center eye is larger than the others, wide open and glowing a soft green. 

Peter inspects the necklace in the mirror, jumping when the iris of the largest eye moves to make eye contact with him.. and then the eye  _ blinks _ . 

The boy yelps, falling back away from the mirror, reaching for the necklace. 

_ "Do not panic, child. It is merely me." _ That voice echoes in his mind again,  _ "I am blending in." _

"Yknow, most jewelry isn't incredibly creepy," Peter manages to compose himself, heart pounding, "Or  _ blinks at you _ ." 

_ "Perhaps I should be stationary instead." _ The voice offers,  _ "I can make a very convincing piece of normal jewelry." _

"Yeah, that would.. probably be a good idea. Lots of things move and talk, but it's not usually jewelry." 

_ "Only you can hear me, child."  _

Peter pauses, "...Suddenly you're using 'me' instead of 'we' and 'us'. What's up with that?" 

_ "It is.. complicated." _

"As if a sentient eye thing isn't?" 

The voice goes quiet in his head for a long time, Peter spending the time waiting in the shower, cleaning out his hair, turning the water red as it washes down the drain. He puts on fresh clothes when he gets out of the shower, looking out one of the windows, toward where he remembers the hidden temple sits. Loki comes to rub against his ankles, chirping at him. 

He looks down at the black Maine Coon, bending down to scoop him up into his arms. The black cat meows, rubbing up under his chin, pawing at the necklace.

The Eye almost seems to scowl at the cat, flashing green, startling the cat back out of Peter's arms with a yowl. 

“Woah! Hey! Play nice, both of you!” Peter hastily opens his arms to avoid getting scratched. 

_ “I apologize. We dislike… familiars.”  _

“Well play nice with Loki. He’s my best friend,” Peter huffs. 

_ “We will treat the familiar with more respect.”  _ The Eye promises. 

“Thank you,” Peter crouches down to comfort his fluffy baby, “So what’s our next step?” 

_ “The Red Warrior has part of our power. We must regain it before we undo what has trapped the Hydra.” _

“Okaayy… how do we do that?” 

. . . 

Tony sits in his office, hands gripping graying hair, elbows on his knees as he sits under his desk. 

_ God… what am I gonna do? How long has it even been? _

His jaw clenches as he thinks about Stephen. The constant ache in his chest has reminded him all this time about the agony he must be in. 

He can only wonder if any of Stephen is still in there. 

_ I’m coming back, Stephen.. I just need to find you again first.  _

The sun goes down outside the university as he sits there, the older wizard only coming out from under the desk when it's completely dark outside. He slips out of the office and ducks into a small hidden room, where a map of the city covers one wall, and a string of notes and photos covers the free space on the remaining walls. 

The map is actually several maps from multiple time periods magically layered over one another, several places marked. The placement of the original Temple of Time is circled on the oldest map, accompanied by several X’s in locations he’s investigated already. 

Tony grinds his teeth as he looks it over again, every inch of every map already memorized. “Where are you, you dumb temple?” He growls at the maps, making an effort not to sound desperate, “I’ve been looking for years… You can’t move around that much.. People would notice.” 

He peers again at the layered maps, focusing on the original location for the thousandth time. He squints, leaning in close to the maps to really see what’s there now. Apartment buildings, but… Something is off. He can feel it, something tugging him back to that area, over and over. 

Maybe the ache in his chest is getting to him. He shakes his head to try and clear it, looking tiredly back at all his notes. Energy surges, apparition sightings, supposed cults forming… Sometimes he hates the high-energy city. 

Tony sighs, lifting his sunglasses to rub the bridge of his nose with calloused fingers.

_ All this time, and not a single god damned lead. Stupid Temple. Stupid magic. This is why I would rather be a scientist.  _

He groans in frustration, loosely hitting the map wall with an open hand. The maps flutter with the motion, and something falls out from between them, floating loosely to the ground. He raises an eyebrow, looking down at what fell, bending to pick it up. 

It’s a scroll, scrawled in shaky handwriting… but unmistakably Stephen’s. 

‘Don’t look for me. You’re already hurt, I don’t want you to die by my hand.’ 

Three words at the bottom are smeared from water stains. 

Tony knows exactly what those words are supposed to be. He’d kept them from leaving his mouth so many times, hid them under his tongue before and after every stupid, dangerous thing they’d done. 

_ I love you. _

. . . 

Peter finds himself standing back in front of the hidden Temple of Time, this time armed with the Eye and all its knowledge. 

“You’re sure this is safe?”

_ “We will protect you, child. The Hydra cannot escape its prison here. Nor the temple.” _

Peter looks doubtful as he looks at the flashing ‘DO NOT ENTER’ sign. “If you say so…” He reaches up to touch the new bronze necklace around his neck. The necklace starts to radiate a comforting warmth. 

He takes a deep breath, approaching the Temple, slowly peeking in around the edge of the door. The Temple lies silet, abnormally so. Peter slowly steps in, letting the door creak closed behind him. 

“Alright.. We’re looking for a… book?” Peter speaks in hushed tones, looking around as he does, hoping he won’t draw any attention to himself. 

_ “Yes. The Library is down the left hallway. You will find the Tome we require there.”  _

“Do I.. get to know ahead of time what this book is?”

_ “We will tell you when we see it.” _

“How wonderfully vague.” The young wizard sighs, moving further into the temple, being as quiet as possible. He walks on the balls of his feet, walking half-crouched down the dark and dusty hallway. 

He makes it to the library without incident, keeping a very hard eye on his surroundings, listening for any hint of that sinister hum. The Temple is deathly silent as he moves through the shelves, the only sounds being his soft footsteps and the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears. 

He’s startled by the sudden input of the Eye’s voice in his head.  _ “That one. To your right, the Tome of Time.” _

He hastily turns, picking out the large, leather bound book from the shelf, reaching to take it off the shelf. The shelf creaks loudly as he pulls the book away, making him wince as the noise echoes throughout the library. 

A hum starts in the back of his mind as he hears something stir deep within the temple. 

_ Fuck. _

_ “The Hydra senses vibrations. Remain calm, lest it hear your heartbeat.” _

“I’m trying to, but it’s kinda hard when there’s an otherworldly monster after you,” Peter whispers, stressed as he hefts the large book into his arms. He wipes the dust off the front cover, frowning at the faded gold text. 

_ The Mystic Arts; Unabridged  _ is what he can make out, the gold paint faded and peeling. He can’t quite make out an author, that paint has been worn away beyond what’s readable. The name starts with ‘An’... 

He’s broken out of his thoughts as he hears the shambling footsteps from deeper in the library. He hastily shoves the large book into his backpack, ducking behind one of the shelves, peeking around the edge of it. He catches sight of the end of the thing’s cloak disappearing behind the shelves lining the inner circle of the library. The boy breathes a soft sigh of relief, sinking back against the shelf. 

Something creaks in his ear, Peter slowly turning his head to find himself face to face with the thing’s uncanny face. 

It bares sharp, inhuman teeth at him as it snarls, the sound grating and rough coming from the possessed man’s vocal chords. Peter yelps and tries to dart away, grabbed by the thing and pulled close to it, the thing stretching its jaw too far for any human, orange and golden circles of magic swirling in its throat. 

Its teeth are inches from his face when the Eye opens at its place on Peter’s neck, bathing them both in green light, making the thing scream and drop the boy, staggering back. Peter takes the chance to scramble to his feet and sprint away, keeping a firm grip on his backpack straps as he runs, blinking the green out of his eyes.

“Is that the Hydra? It looks like a man,” Peter manages between breaths. 

_ “It has been locked within a host. The Guardian of Time has been keeping it in check.” _

“That’s a real person?!” Peter skids to a stop, turning to face back toward the library, “We have to help him!” 

_ “It would be dangerous to approach the host in your current state. That is why we have the Tome.”  _

“We can’t just leave him here,” The boy moves back down the hallway, pausing mid-step as he hears the screech of the creature. 

_ “It cannot leave the Temple. If you wish to help the Guardian, you must leave this place and return another time.”  _

His grip tightens on his backpack straps, knuckles turning white. “We can’t just… leave this guy here…” His resolve wavers as he hears the hum start to get louder, the shambling footsteps approaching. 

_ “He will not be this way forever. But you must live to make sure of that.” _

He can make out the orange glow of the thing start to be visible at the end of the dark hallway. Another screech echoes, sending a shiver down his spine. 

“Okay. But I  _ will _ be back for him.” Peter decides, turning and sprinting back down the hall, toward the exit. 

He makes it back out, slamming the door shut behind him, pausing against the door for a long moment to let his breathing and heartbeat even back out. Eventually, he takes a deep breath, and steps away from the door, starting the trek back toward home. 

. . . Smoky orange tendrils wrap around the bottom edge of the door. 

The boy wizard climbs back in through the window of his dorm room, flopping less than gracefully onto the floor with the added weight of the leather bound book in his backpack. He groans as he gets back up to his feet, setting his bag down and heaving the almost comically large book out of it, bringing it over to his desk. He sets it down with a thump, turning on his desk lamp to illuminate the cover better before he carefully takes a rag and cleans the remaining dust off of it. 

“ _ ‘The Mystic Arts; Unabridged’ _ ,” He reads, “I thought magic was just energy manipulation? Not actual, like, voodoo stuff.” 

_ “The Arts are a powerful aid. What you know of magic still applies; in your terms, the Arts are a more… in-depth manipulation of energy. It is an ancient practice, now lost to time. Very few true Weilders still exist.”  _

“Okay… so how do we, I mean, I, learn this?” Peter regards the huge book, intimidated, “There’s no way I’m gonna learn all of this while still worrying about school.” 

_ “Time is of no importance. The Warrior has waited this long, he can wait long enough for you to grasp enough of the Arts to reseal the Hydra.” _

“If you say so…” Chocolate brown eyes have green flecks as they scan the cover. Tentative hands move to open the intimidating book, the boy heaving the front cover open and smoothing out the pages. 

On the first page is a note, in delicate handwriting and desaturated ink. 

_ To anyone who may need it once I’m gone. Use this gift of yours wisely. _

_ -An Ancient Master _

He wonders what that could mean. He shakes his head, sighing, turning the page to the table of contents, which is all jargon he doesn’t know. 

“What’s a ‘sling ring’?” He whispers to himself. 

As if on cue, Loki jumps up onto the desk, meowing at him and promptly standing on the ancient text. Peter hastily grabs his mischievous familiar off the book and sets him in his lap instead, subduing the fur ball with head scratches. Loki purrs and settles on muscled thighs as Peter delves into the book. 

_ Chapter One: The Basics of Magic _

. . . 

“Peter! You’re late!” 

Tony’s voice startles him from his sleep, a very frazzled Peter sitting up from where he had lain hunched over the book. Loki chirps at being disturbed. 

Peter mumbles a hasty apology as he picks up the equally sleepy familiar and sets him on the chair, where he promptly curls back up and falls back asleep. The young wizard scrambles to get dressed, getting himself at least somewhat presentable before he goes to greet Tony at the door. 

Tony looks his protege up and down, his eyebrows appearing from behind his sunglasses, “You look like death. We’re you up all night or something?” 

“I guess I got carried away with uh… studying,” Peter subtly tries to tame his hair. It’s neither subtle nor effective. 

“Uh-huh.. That’s unlike you,” The eyebrows rise higher up his mentor’s forehead. 

“Well I needed to catch up on some things, that’s all,” Peter hastily claims. 

There’s silence between the two for a long moment as Tony’s eyebrows escape into his hair. 

“You are a terrible liar.” 

Peter sighs, “I know… but I did end up reading all of last night. Honest.” It’s not  _ technically _ a lie.. 

Tony’s eyebrows return with bountiful spoils from their adventure. “Just try not to exhaust yourself, kid. Come on, its class time.”

“Yessir!” Peter gives a very incorrect salute, earning a chuckle from his mentor. 

It seems to be another normal day, Peter ending up fairly average in his classes.. at least at first. As he remembers what he learned last night from the book, he decides it can’t hurt to try something small out, right? Something taught in the first chapter… A string. 

He glances around to make sure no one’s watching, then subtly tries to conjure a magical thread. He startles slightly in shock as small, intricate circles of magic blossom from his fingers, a concentrated string of red energy connecting the two small circles he’d made. In his reflex, he loudly knees his desk, drawing everyone’s eyes to him. He quickly looks up, grimacing in an attempt at a smile, dispelling the magic between his fingers. 

Luckily, it seems like no one noticed what he did. Reassuring the teacher he’s fine, he shifts to be more comfortable in his seat, bringing his legs up to sit cross-legged as the lesson continues. 

He tries again, focusing the energy as hard as he can into the shape of the string between his hands. A new red string springs to life in his hands, glowing softly, radiating a soft warmth between his fingers. A grin spreads across his face, trying to bend the string. 

The red string becomes white-hot and snaps loudly, flinging shards of energy across his hands and up into his face. He yelps, bringing burnt hands up to his face, eyes stinging. 

He feels the hand of the teacher on his shoulder, his hands taken away from his face, vision blurry through tears of pain. He can make out the outline of the teacher, and another figure behind them… something with golden eyes. He reaches to rub at his eyes again, grabbed out of his seat by the teacher, escorted to the infirmary. 

A very calm Tony comes to check on him as the school nurse tends to his burns, old and new. 

“What on Malen did you do?! How did you explode something in class?!” Tony’s blurry silhouette shoves the nurse aside to check him over. 

“I’m okay, sir, really.. It was just a magic mishap,” Peter mumbles, face squished between Tony’s calloused hands. 

Tony tries to clear his eyes, wiping at them with his rough fingers. “Can you still see? Are you okay?” 

Hazel brown eyes look back at him, hazy, but clearing up after a moment. Peter reaches to pry his guardian’s hands away from his face as he nods, “Really, sir, I’m okay.” 

Eyes hidden by sunglasses convey more worry than the wearer would like to admit. “Are you sure? You’re covered in burns, what kind of magic were you working with? Magic doesn’t get hot.” 

“I was messing with concentrations, it blew up in my face.” 

Tony opens his mouth to respond, interrupted by the nurse elbowing him aside again to continue healing Peter’s wounds. At a very clear glare from the nurse, the mentor puts his hands up and backs back out of the room. 

Soon enough, Peter is cleared to go back to his room, with very clear instructions to take it easy and avoid anything that would re-damage his eyes and skin. Of course, Tony is waiting for his protégé in the dorm, sitting like a supervillain in one of the chairs, a very content Loki purring on his lap. The frown on his face expresses the entirety of his displeasure, but no doubt he’ll talk the boy’s ear off anyway. 

Peter prepares himself for the lecture of a lifetime, and not in a good way. 

“Just  _ what _ do you think you were doing?” Begins the lecture, which goes on for more than a couple hours. 

“And another thing,” Tony takes a breath, pausing to look back at a clearly exhausted Peter. Untamed hair and dark circles under half brown and green eyes, soft scarring working on fading away across his face. Tony sighs, “...I’m just worried about you. I don’t want to lose you to a magic mishap.” 

“I know, sir, I’m sorry.” Peter mumbles. 

Tony gently places a hand on his shoulder, “I’ve got a bad track record with magic and those around me. Please just.. be careful.” 

“I will,” Peter looks up at his mentor quietly. Exhaustion is written across his face. 

Tony’s demeanor softens as he looks at his student, “You should get some rest. You look like death.” He stands up, picking up the familiar from his lap as he does, plopping a very warm and sleepy Loki in Peter’s arms. 

Peter nods, getting up himself, already half asleep as he turns and walks into his bedroom. He sets Loki down on the bed before he crawls in between the covers and promptly passes out within moments, his familiar curling up in the crook of his knees. 

. . . 

A young wizard finds himself standing outside an abandoned apartment building, holding a gold cat’s collar. The building looks sealed with no way in, but the mischievous pet has gotten into more secure places before. He just hopes he can find a way in too. 

Surveying the building, he finds an open window up on the third floor. Bingo. Making sure no one’s around to see him, he quickly makes his way up, lithe form easily traversing the vertical terrain and flipping in through the window. 

A strange feeling coats his skin as he crosses the threshold of the building, like he’s somehow stepped into the mouth of something ancient, something that’s seen the beginning of Time itself. The interior he sees matches this feeling… this is definitely not an apartment building. Ancient architecture surrounds him, along with what look like display cases, housing artifacts he’s never seen before. The window behind him is old stained glass, depicting a long green dragon curled around a mountain. It’s solid, and doesn’t open. 

“Guess I can’t go back out that way,” The boy mumbles, turning his attention back to tracking down his missing familiar for now. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes tightly to focus on the energy in the collar, seeing a faint golden trail in the darkness of his eyelids, leading deeper into the strange hidden museum. He opens dark brown, almost black eyes again, moving to follow where he saw the trail, occasionally closing his eyes to keep himself on track. The display cases give way to long winding hallways, lined with intricately carved columns and old paint portraits. Small plumes of dust are kicked up with each step on the polished stone floor. 

He passes by other rooms and doorways, each one unique in the things it holds, though he makes an effort not to be distracted. He eventually steps out into what seems to be a main foyer, where a large black cat is pawing at the big wooden double doors. 

“There you are Loki,” The young wizard relaxes, quickly stepping over and scooping up his familiar, who protests very loudly, “I was worried about you. How did you even come this far from the dorms?” 

Big green eyes peer at him from a fluffy void as the cat continues meowing at him, earning a chuckle from the boy. 

“Let’s get you back home, shall we?” He looks back around, closing his eyes to see where he came from. He can pick out his own red trail, the gold trail of his cat… and a third trail, orange and strong, almost fluorescent. He opens his eyes, confused, the trail lingering in his gaze for a long moment. It seems to lead off down the left hallway, fresh. He’d.. rather not go investigate that right now, he decides, instead moving quickly and quietly back the way he came, back up two flights of stairs and through the long hallways to the room full of display cases. 

Looking around, he finds everything is different than when he left it, most of the displays now gone, a large bronze dragon statue now in the center of the room. It’s curled around a large column, facing the doorway, large curved fangs and teeth bared. A beard covers its jaw, and long antlers protrude from its head. Strung between its horns is an eye-shaped metal object, on a thin bronze chain. This particular artifact almost seems to call to him, like it wants him to pick it up. 

His staring is interrupted by a black paw batting his face. He blinks, looking down at his fuzzy assailant, who seems impatient to get out of here. Giving one last look at the dragon, he heads around it to where he remembers the window being. It’s back to being an open window. 

He climbs back onto the windowsill, feeling eyes on his back. He glances over his shoulder, finding the dragon is facing him again.. despite formerly facing the opposite direction. He frowns a bit, but shakes it off for now, jumping back out the window to climb down the side of the building. 

The coating peels back off his skin as he leaves the building. He shudders a bit as he reaches the sidewalk again. 

“Find my cat in a creepy place, check,” Peter mumbles, “Go home and pretend none of it happened, double check.” 

He still feels eyes on his back as he walks away from the strange apartment building. 

. . .

_ “Wake up, child. There’s work to be done.”  _ The Eye’s voice interrupts his dream, pulling him back to the waking world. 

Peter sits up, groggy, rubbing at his eyes, “Huh?”

_ “There is still much to learn about the Arts.” _

“Mmh, right, the.. book thing..” He yawns, stretching, moving to drag himself out of bed and plop down less than gracefully at his desk, where the large book still sits, open to the last pages he was reading. He waits for his gaze to clear, managing to focus back in on the words in front of him. Surely he made a lot of progress, right? 

He checks the chapter and page numbers. 

Chapter 7: Simple Conjurations, page 205. 

He looks at how many pages are left, immediately discouraged by the gigantic amount of book still left to read. 

“Isn’t there like, an abridged version? Or, I dunno, cliff notes of some kind?” 

_ “A thorough understanding is needed to ensure the seal is done properly.” _

Peter groans, looking over the pages again. He remembers the creature in the temple, shivering at remembering solid golden eyes and an uncannily human face. He blinks, almost frozen in place as he remembers that’s an actual  _ person _ . Someone’s… been holding that thing in for years. 

“How long, exactly, has that man been there? The.. the host, I mean,” Peter mumbles, itching the back of one of his hands. 

_ “The Guardian hosts it for the good of us all, lest the seals on the Temple fail.” _

“That didn’t answer my question.” 

_ “Time is of no relevance.” _

Peter is deathly quiet, staring down at the book. There’s silence for a long, uncomfortable moment. 

_ “The Warrior has been looking for the Guardian for many years. We would liken it to perhaps… three of your lifetimes.” _

“Three hundred years?!” Peter yells, outraged, “You left him there for  _ three hundred years _ ?!” 

_ “Perhaps it is more consequential to one so young in the scheme of Time. We have been here for longer than your world has, so it is merely moments to us.”  _

“That is not an excuse! Why not call this ‘Warrior’ to you, if he’s been looking all this time?!” 

_ “He does not have the abilities to properly wield us. His emotions would get in the way.” _

“And how’s that, exactly?” Peter huffs, angrily diving back into reading the book. 

_ “They were very close. Too close for either of them to admit.”  _ The Eye pauses,  _ “And being Blind, he cannot properly direct energy.” _

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

_ “It is not important right now. It is more important to study the Arts and seal the Hydra.” _

“Mhm. Well I’m on bed rest for a week, so I guess now I have time,” Peter sighs, flipping the page. 

Chapter 8: The Ticking of the Circles

. . . 

Tony sits in his secret hideaway, once again agonizing over his maps and notes. None of it makes any sense, how did the temple just  _ disappear _ ? A building can’t just  _ move _ , not even the strongest magics can make that happen. 

He takes off his sunglasses, rubbing his face with calloused hands, “God, what am I even doing? Is he even still alive?” 

Solid green eyes look back at the layered maps, the note he found earlier taped to the wall beside them. He reaches one hand to press against the note again, feeling the vague energy coming from it. Stephen’s energy. Taking a deep breath, he tries again to pinpoint where the energy came from in the city, closing his eyes to do so. The trail is faint and flickers in and out, frustratingly refusing to stay in one place as he runs through the city in his mind. Trying to focus his magic doesn’t work either, the energy he’s manipulating keeps pulling itself in different directions. 

Despite his best efforts, he’s always led back to nothing. Just a condemned apartment building. 

He groans in frustration, punching the maps. The papers flutter with the impact. His eyes spark painfully with loose magic from his over usage. He winces, bringing one hand up to seal off any cracks that were made with his escapades again. The green crack lines crawling out from his eyes slowly retreat again. He relaxes slightly as the pain subsides back into dull, manageable territory. 

Taking a deep breath, he turns his gaze back to the maps, taking a look at where this abandoned building actually is. It’s in the center of the city.. about where the Temple was. He frowns a bit, reaching to mark the exact spot on the map, pinpointing the building. 

“Can’t hurt to check it out, I guess… One maybe lead is better than no lead,” He mumbles to himself. He puts his sunglasses back on, running his hands through his messy, graying hair. “I’m going to find you, Stephen… I’m bringing you home.” He murmurs. 

A lone wizard stands in the rain, outside of a condemned building. His hair is soaked to his scalp. Water droplets run down mirrored sunglasses and a semi-waterproof jacket. 

His heart drops into his stomach as he sees the door has been forced open, the doorway covered in orange magic residue and dark burnings. He recognizes the dark interior to be the Temple from all those years ago. Closing his eyes, he picks out the bright orange trail of the Hydra, leading away from the Temple and into the city. 

“Oh, Stephen…” He murmurs. Something saltier than rain begins to drop down his face. “No.. No…” 

Futilely, he steps into the Temple to search for his partner, searching every inch of it. The residual energy of the Hydra is everywhere, still fresh, but its host is nowhere to be found. His eyes spark painfully. He rubs at them under his glasses roughly. 

Stepping back out into the rain, he looks around to follow the trail left by the Hydra. He gets the feeling something else accompanied the magic trail… he’d rather not think about it. 

Tony shakes his head, turning to follow the trail, walking briskly to try and catch up with the creature. 

_ Stephen, Stephen, no, please, why didn’t you stay put, what happened, I should’ve found you sooner, please, _

Soon enough he’s sprinting, eyes sparking painfully in the rain, the cracks curling out from his eyes further and further the more he uses his magic to track his partner. He ignores the pain, pushing past it to run hard after the Hydra. His thoughts begin to blur together, his sight equally blurry with tears and the painful green overlay of the magic in his eyes. 

He crashes into something, or someone. The two forms come crashing to the ground, one much larger than the other. 

Tony groans, pushing himself up with his hands to see what he hit, “Sorry about that, I was distracted-“ He pauses, caught off guard by the form beneath him, “Peter? What are you doing out here?” 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter blinks up at his mentor, “...Why are you out in the rain?” 

“I should ask you the same thing,” He helps his student up, checking him over for injuries, “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine, sir, don’t worry.” 

Tony subtly makes sure he’s still wearing his glasses, adjusting them, renewing the seal on his eyes in doing so. “So what exactly  _ are _ you doing out here?” 

“I was uh, going for a walk. Clear my head, y’know,” Peter grabs his dropped umbrella off the ground, opening it up again. 

“Hm..” Tony decides to let the lies slide this time, looking past Peter to the trail continuing down the empty street, “Say, did you see anyone pass by you on your walk?” 

“No? I didn’t see anyone. Just you and me out in the rain, far as I can tell,” Peter gives him a confused look. 

Tony rests a hand on Peter’s shoulder, slowly stepping past him, “Alright.. Enjoy your walk, be careful. Even though you’re supposed to be on bed rest.” 

“I feel fine, sir, I just needed some fresh air,” Peter protests. 

“I’ll let this one slide, okay? But you need to be back in your dorm by the time I get back,” He gives the young wizard a pointed look. 

He gets a nod in return, “Yessir. I promise I’ll be back by dinner.” 

“Good. Be safe.” Tony steps fully past him, continuing down the street, quickly focusing back on the trail. It seems to be getting fresher… At least he hopes it is. 

He suddenly finds himself in the center of the park, surrounded by the orange magic residue, it leading off in every direction at once. 

“Malek, Stephen, how long have you been out?” He pants, breathless. The rain is coming down harder now, practically a downpour. “Where did you  _ go _ ?” He turns a circle, eyes sparking and blacking his vision for a split second painfully as he tries to find an exit point of the trail circles. 

_ Malek, not now, please just a little longer, just enough to find him again. I don’t.. I don’t want to leave without him. Not again. _ He silently begs the higher circles.

. . . 

Peter stands in the wrecked foyer of the Temple, looking at the carnage. Burns and slashes, ancient characters burned into the floor. 

“Uh.. Where did he go?” 

_ “The Hydra has broken free from the Temple. Its host is the only thing containing its destructive power now.”  _

“What do we do about that?” Peter is trying very hard not to panic. It’s not working very well. 

_ “It will find us soon. We must speed up our efforts.” _

“Speed up? I’m on chapter  _ eleven _ after a  _ week _ ! How am I supposed to ‘ _ speed up _ ’?!” Peter yells, incredulous. 

_ “Perhaps there is a fast reading spell in the library. There is much knowledge there.”  _

“Another book? That’s your plan?” 

_ “It seeks us out as we speak. Please do not waste more time than you have to.” _

A stressed scowl crosses the boy’s face as he makes his way to the library. He makes his way through the isles, looking for anything that might have that type of spell. 

_ “Please stop thinking so loudly. If you dislike my idea, you are allowed to say so.” _

"Okay, well, I hate this plan," Peter sets back yet another book mentioning time on the shelf, "Wait, you can hear my thoughts?" 

_ "I am linked to your mind. I cannot hear specific words, however I am able to tell your mood."  _

"Lovely," He groans, continuing his search, "This is going to take forever." 

_ "I will see if my children can help us." _

"Your what now?" He cranes his neck to look down at the Eye. All of the bronze eyes are currently closed. 

_ "Pieces of me, in the Temple. My flesh, if you will."  _

"Gross." 

_ "Please let me concentrate."  _

The Temple is silent for a moment as Peter waits, before he begins to hear the clicking of small talons on the polished stone floor. Hundreds of them, rapidly approaching. He tries to see where the noises are coming from, but they quickly seem to surround the boy from all directions. Looking up, he spots hundreds of tiny green dots looking down at him from the ceiling. 

Something hits the side of his foot. He looks down to find a small, wingless dragon, long and curling. It looks back at him with tiny pieces of glowing gemstone for eyes. It chirps at him, sounding like a whistle, hoping on top of his shoe. Its body scrunches up as it sits. Peter can't help but be reminded of Loki's usual sitting posture. 

"A tiny dragon?" He looks around, suddenly realizing how he's surrounded by hundreds of these tiny dragons, each one gazing at him with similar green eyes. 

He's reminded of the large statue, and remembers that it… didn't have eyes. 

_ "Yes. With my children to aid us, we can speed up this process tenfold." _ If jewelry could look pleased with itself, the Eye is managing it.  _ "Tell them of the spell you seek, and they will help us find the correct book." _

Peter looks skeptical, picking up the Wyrm on his shoe. It's about as big as his hand overall, its long body wrapping around his arm. It's skinny and as long as his forearm, scales cool to the touch, a dark grey, looking like they're carved from stone. 

He looks back at the flock of them all around him, perched in every place possible. Tiny antlered heads tilt this way and that as they all look at him expectantly. 

"Uh… do you guys think you could help me find a fast-reading spell or something?" This is decidedly the weirdest thing he's ever done.

Hundreds of ears perk up as he speaks, a pause as they all seem to process his request. Then, as if one creature, they split up, scattering themselves across the entire library, scampering across every shelf, inspecting every book with curious tongue flicks. Peter watches with a mix of surprise and awe as the colony of dragons works. He manages to shake himself out of his stupor, moving to continue searching the shelves himself. 

Thunder rolls across the sky outside, rain pelting the city. A scraggly, unkempt form stands in the middle of a wet road. An orange crackling mist hangs around its feet and the hem of a now-soaked dark red cloak. 

Golden eyes are affixed on a large and old building. A school. 

It breathes in deeply, picking out two specific energies. One a deep red, the other a strange mix of green and gold. Both lead into the building… or at least seem to. 

It drags itself toward the building. 

Tony is panting, hands on his knees, trying to make sense of the energy around him. Wet hair sticks to his head, dripping water down his already soaked shirt and jacket. His fingers are freezing cold, starting to be painful to move. 

_ I have to keep going… there’s no way he walked all this in less than a day. Think, where would he end up? _

He goes through the twisting streets in his mind, walking blurry pathways he’s known for years, trying to make sense of the orange trail. There’s no rhyme, no reason to his movements, seeming to walk in random directions…

_ Where would he go? Where would he know to go, deep down? Is he even.. No, no he has to be.  _

He takes a deep breath, straightening up, replacing his sunglasses on his face. He runs through the places he’s already checked. The fountain, the park, the museum, the mausoleum, the school… 

The school. Peter. 

Turning to head down the fastest route, he starts running. 

Peter jumps as lightning cracks just outside the building, fumbling to keep from dropping the book in his hands. It bounces a few times in his hands before settling again. He lets out a frustrated groan as he puts it back on the shelf. 

“This is pointless. I’m gonna be fifty by the time we find what we’re looking for.” He irritatedly waves away another suggestion from one of the dragons. 

_ “I apologize, it is many eyes to look through.” _

“If they’re part of you, why can’t you just have them seal whatever it is away?” 

_ “My essence is scattered. I require a host to interfere with your plane directly.” _

Peter huffs, “Okay, then why can’t you just give me the knowledge I need?” 

_ “That approach has already proven… ineffective. The consequences do not outweigh the benefits.”  _

“How wonderfully vague of you.” The boy stretches a stiff back, feeling the popping as it loosens back up. “So you tried once, three hundred years ago, and that didn’t work, so you just sat in here and waited?” 

_ “I am not exactly mobile, child. I cannot just walk out of the Temple on my own. The Guardian has proven to be difficult to work around.”  _

He looks down as another dragon brings him a book. This one looks new, well, in a certain sense of the word. It’s obviously well worn and well loved, but it’s fairly modern. It’s a journal of some kind. The leather cover is slashed across with a large burn mark, smaller, fingerprint-looking marks around the edges. He reaches down to pick it up, feeling the weight of it, ash quickly coating his fingers. Frowning, he opens it, unwrapping a charred braided leather strap and pulling the front cover open gingerly. The pages inside are largely burned beyond readable, but a few near the center seem to have survived. 

The few things he can pick out on the pages are sketches and notes, symbols and spells. Everything is very handmade, with unique handwriting he doesn’t recognize. It’s an odd blend of print and cursive. The last few pages look like they were ripped out. 

The dragon that found it climbs up to wrap around Peter’s shoulders, resting its small head atop his as its tail curls around his neck. 

“Well you’re awful proud of yourself, huh?” He chuckles, reaching to rub behind one of its ears with sooty fingers. It gives a raspy purr. 

Turning his attention back to the journal, he tries to make out what’s on the relatively intact pages. It seems to be spells, with names, ingredients, duration… Dull green eyes scan across the pages. 

_ Second Day _

_ Time Turner  _

_ Energy Swap  _

_ Possession  _ _ Sight Switch  _

_ Transfer  _

_ Teleportation (sling ring?) _

_ “Eye of Agomotto”?  _

Peter pauses at the half-burnt note at the bottom of one of the pages, “The Eye of Agomotto…?” He murmurs to himself, “What’s that?” 

_ “That would be me. One of many names I possess.”  _ Peter jumps at the voice in his head, almost dropping the fragile journal. 

“You have a name?” 

_ “Of course I do. There are many terms for my form across history. This is merely the most recent. But for clarity, you may call me Agomotto.”  _

“That’s a lot to say every time. I’m gonna call you Motto.” 

A deep sigh echoes in his head,  _ “If you must. Let us return to the matter at hand.”  _

“Right, yeah.” The boy squints at the burnt pages, gingerly turning from one to the next, “.. I think… there’s a spell for fast reading marked down here, but I can’t read it.” 

_ “Perhaps what has been dubbed ‘Time Turner’ can help us return the book to a readable state.”  _

“Oh yeah, that one,” He flips back to the most intact page of notes, reading out the spell, “‘Allows an object to be returned to a former state of being. Doesn’t work on living beings.’” He reads, “‘Place object in a simple dual circle rune and trace counter-clockwise. Outside ring is hours, inside ring is minutes. A full outer circle is a week, a full inner circle is a day.’” He looks doubtfully at the rest of the book, “... I don’t think this will be fixed with just a few circles back.” 

_ “I believe adding a third outer circle will increase the time reversed, but we must be careful to avoid a paradox. We should not return it to a state where it is in the possession of someone.”  _

“Okay, well, I guess we have three hundred years to work with, so…” He moves to clear a space, going back to the doors to grab a chunk of charcoal and coming back to carefully draw three rings. Agomotto coaches him on how the circles should look, instructing him to place small symbols where the hour markings would be on a clock for each one. Soon, all that’s left is to activate the circles. 

Peter carefully places the journal in the center of the smallest ring, “Okay, how do I make it go?” 

_ “Merely touch the top marking to start the spell.” _

Black-stained fingers reach to touch the twelve o’clock marking on the smallest circle. As he does, the three rings light up a saturated red, glowing expectantly, as if waiting for him to move. He takes a deep breath, then shifts his hand to the second circle, carefully sliding his hand counter-clockwise around the circle. 

For a moment, nothing happens. 

Then the book folds itself closed, Peter’s sooty fingerprints vanishing from the covers. Encouraged, Peter leans to touch the third circle, carefully winding it back, and little by little, the singing begins to fade away. 

The burns on the cover fade after five turns, the book returning to being largely intact after ten. 

“How much time was that?” Peter stops, pulling his hand away again. The circles fade back to charcoal black once more. 

_ “It is our understanding that you have turned it back one hundred years. Each full circle was ten years.” _

“Okay.. Let’s see what we have now,” He picks up the lightly singed book, carefully flipping it open again. 

Something shambles around Peter’s dorm room, digging through drawers and cabinets, leaving a mess in its wake. Dragging footsteps bring it into his bedroom, Loki hissing at the intruder from his place on Peter’s bed. The thing pays the irate cat no heed, clicking inhumanly as it starts to dig through his bedside table. Long, scraggly nails scrape against wood as it searches. It seems frustrated when it doesn’t find what it’s looking for, straightening back up and turning around. 

Golden eyes alight on a large book sitting open on the desk. 

Lightning strikes outside the school, narrowly missing a frantic Tony. The soaked wizard barges into the dormitory, breathing hard, pausing to catch his breath. His hands rest on his knees as his clothes cause a pool on the tile floor. Lungs wheeze warm inside air as tired and cold muscles are forced to keep moving. Wet shoes squelch down the halls rapidly. 

Tony bursts into Peter’s room moments later, door slamming open. He’s greeted by a disgruntled Loki at his feet, yowling up at him, and footprints singed into the carpet. Scooping the black Maine coon up, he slowly makes his way into the apartment. 

“Stephen..? You here?” He calls into the silent space, “Why are you here?” 

The apartment is eerily silent. Tony carefully wanders further in, methodically checking the rooms. Everything seems empty. 

Things get warmer as he nears the bedroom, muffled crackling coming from behind the door, an orange glow peeking out under the door. Tony flinches away at touching the hot doorknob. He musters a spark of energy to coat his hand, protecting it as he quickly turns the knob and pulls the door open. 

“Something’s here about seals,” Peter hums, flipping carefully through the intact pages, “And notes about a cloak?” 

_ “The Cloak keeps the Hydra locked within its host. You will need to release the Cloak to seal the Hydra.”  _

“Okay.. Let’s see… ‘The Cloak is an artifact that keeps the wearer’s energy confined, but it seems to be able to be tamed and changed to be a familiar type object.’” Peter reads, “blah blah blah…. Ah, here, unlocking. ‘It has two magic seals on free-floating clasps that lock the wearer in. To unlock, simply deactivate the seals and pull the wearer free.’ That.. seems hard to do without dying.” 

_ “To deactivate, you must hit them with a bolt of energy. You may either do this from afar with a well-placed shot or with a direct touch. The Hydra is slow in this form.” _

“Okay… I really don’t wanna be grabbed again, so I guess long range it is,” The young wizard rubs his hands with sooty hands, “I better get real good at target practice.” 

_ “I am able to lend you the failsafe strike you need to release the Cloak. You will need to lure the Hydra back into the Temple so we can seal it away.”  _

“Okay, easy enough, I guess… We just gotta find it first.” 

A blast of warm air hits Tony’s face…. along with a wave of smoke. He coughs, quickly covering his nose and mouth with one sleeve. Loki jumps down from his arms, darting away from him. 

The room is full of smoke and fire, Stephen nowhere to be seen. The burning desk is noticeably empty of a huge tome, and the window is broken. 

“Cantor!” Tony curses, slamming the door shut again, sprinting out the door to activate the nearest fire alarm on his way out of the dormitory. 

Bursting back into his office, his familiar Jarvis the crow caws in surprise, flapping his wings on his perch. 

Tony rushes over to his desk, digging through his papers, grabbing his leather bound journal from beneath all the papers and junk in his personal drawer. Jarvis comes to sit on his shoulder at a whistle from his master. The crow affectionately nuzzles his neck, lightly pecking at the thin chain around Tony’s neck. Tony reaches to tame the bird’s beak with one hand, directing the bird’s gaze to the pages of the book. 

“Tell me what it says, Jar,” The old wizard asks the bird. 

“Notes!” The crow hops excitedly on his shoulder, “Magic!” 

“Yeah, Jar, what do the notes say?” Tony cracks a soft smile. 

“Magic magic!” The crow hops a couple more times before settling down, ruffling his wings in Tony’s ear. “Circle Seal, Eyes of Power, Ancient Beings, Familiar Change,” The crow lists the spells and titles of notes, waiting until Tony hears what he’s looking for. 

‘ _ Untamed Magycks _ ’. 

Peter covers his head with his arms in the rain, looking up to see half the school aflame as he approaches, fire fighters swarming outside in the courtyard. He stops, eyes wide with horror, mouth opening to call his familiar’s name when a familiar black form, albeit soaked, runs toward him, jumping up into his arms. 

The cat complains loudly at him about the situation in front of them. 

“I’m so glad you’re safe, boy, Malek, I’m so glad,” Peter pets him, cuddling him close to his chest, “What happened to our house?” 

_ “The Hydra has been here. It’s concentrated energy sets things it touches aflame.”  _

“Why would it be here?” Peter hesitates, “Oh no, the book.” 

_ “It remains intact. We feel its presence elsewhere. Likely, the Hydra has it.”  _

Peter tries to calm himself, closing deep green eyes for a moment, “...Okay. So we can track it through that, right? You can like, find the book and then we’ll find him?” 

_ “We are not omniscient. We may give you a general location of the book, but not a precise location.”  _

“That’s.. Better than nothing, right?” 

_ “I suppose. It is in the sewers, currently. Beneath the building.”  _

“Oh. Great.” Peter grimaces. Loki climbs into his shirt. 

“Okay, Jarvis, go find Wong.” Tony steps outside the office building having the crow step up onto his forearm, feeling the talons wrap around his arm, “You remember Wong?” 

“Deer friend!” Caws the bird happily, flapping his wings. 

“I need you to find him and bring him to 300 Clockway Road, okay?” 

“Yes sir!” The crow flaps his wings again to shake the water off, then takes to the skies. 

“Hurry…” Tony murmurs to himself, “I don’t think he has much time left.” 

. . . 

“Come on, Stephen, you’re falling behind!” A shit-eating grin accompanies the words from a young wizard as he pauses at the top of a hill of rubble to look back at his companion. 

Said companion is wheezing as he tries to climb the ashy ruins, several feet below, hair stained with grey streaks, “It’s not as easy as it looks, Anthony! Some of us don’t have built in inhalers.” 

Tony laughs, the sound whistling from the implant in his throat, “Hey, at least your lungs work.” 

The taller wizard clambers up to his side, wheezing in the dark and ashy air as he looks around, “So where exactly is this place you found? And why is it in the Burns?” 

“It’s just down there,” He points through the smog at an oddly intact set of ruins, “I promise it’s worth it.” 

“It better be, Anthony,” Stephen coughs, “I can barely see your power core in this smoke.” 

“It’s better inside. C’mon,” The smaller boy slides down the back of the hill, covering himself in soot on the way down. He brushes himself off best he can waiting for his companion to join him. 

“You know, my familiar could’ve just, I don’t know,  _ flown _ us out here.” Stephen flaps his protective cloak to free it of ash. 

“Nah, his lungs need some rest after all the search and rescue. And finding your sorry ass in all this, Mr. Cripple Fingers.” 

Stephen self consciously tucks his hands back inside his cloak. “Can we just keep going? Why did you want to show me this place? It’s just another burned building.” 

“Not quite.” Tony grins, moving to push open the large double doors of the tall building in front of them, the outside of it dark with charr and soot. 

A plume of dust comes in with them as they step over the threshold, the air curiously stale, free of the smell of smoke outside. The boys’ labored breathing echoes around in the foyer. The doors swing closed behind them, plunging the two into darkness. 

Tony sparks up a small golden orb lantern, and Stephen makes a swirling square-lantern shape in green. 

Stephen takes a grateful breath of clear, if stale, air. “At least this place is well reserved. What is it?” 

“Some kind of temple, I think. It had magic protecting it from the Burning.” 

“Must have, if it didn’t get destroyed with everything else,” The younger boy looks around the foyer, curious, “Looks like no one’s been here in a long time.” 

Tony nods, moving to head further in, having his gold lantern follow at his shoulder. “C’mon, lets see what’s here. Maybe ye olde breathers or something.” Tony grins, “Zombies, even?” 

“Malek, no, let’s not open that door,” Stephen shakes his head, following his older companion deeper into the temple. His protective cloak drags along the ground at his feet, their footsteps and breathing the only thing to interrupt the silence. Tony’s core offers a gentle gold light aside from his lantern. 

Stephen instinctively reaches for Tony’s hand with stiff fingers. 

“Scared of the dark?” Tony chuckles. 

“No, I just.. can’t see well in here,” Stephen mumbles, “Shut up and let me hold your stupid hand, Anthony Starkrest.” 

“Okay, ya big baby.” He twines ashy fingers with scarred ones, pulling the taller wizard close to his side, “Did you bring your journal?” 

“Course I did. But I’m not going to write down an empty building, Anthony.” 

“I’m sure there’s something interesting in here for you to write about.” He hums, sending his lamp to illuminate in front of them, the two only bathed in green light from Stephen’s lantern as they walk. 

“God, this is.. so wrong..” Wheezing fills a small rubble-made hiding spot, from two soot-covered figures, pressed close. 

“Shut up, Starkrest, its gonna find us,” Hisses the taller figure, “Do you wanna die?” 

“C’mon, you have to admit this is a little hot,” He grins at his companion, faces inches from each other. 

“Anthony, this is  _ not _ the time to be flirting! Shh!” Stephen covers his companion’s mouth, heavy footsteps slowly going by outside. They stop outside their hiding space, something big sniffing just outside, growling and clicking. An orange glow peeks around the edges of the sheltering rubble. 

They hold their breaths, waiting what seems like an eternity before the heavy footsteps move away. They let it out slowly. 

“...Okay… I think we’re safe.” Stephen lets out a relieved sigh. 

Tony takes the hand away from his mouth, “So now can we kiss?” 

“Anthony!” 

“Okay, geez, let’s go home then,” the smaller boy pouts, stepping to slowly crawl out of their hiding spot. He gets up, brushing the ash off his pants. Stephen follows, coughing. 

“Yeah, before something eats us,” The taller wizard wheezes, grabbing the smaller boy’s coat sleeve and dragging him back through the maze of smoking rubble to their small encampment, passing through the magical barrier around it. 

. . . 

Peter conjures a beam of light in his hand as he lands in the damp sewers, holding his palm up to shine it around. “So he’s somewhere down here?” 

_ “That is where the book has been relocated to, yes.”  _

“Great.. at best, the book is down here on its own, and at worst, he’s with it, right?” 

_ “Correct. It is entirely possible the book is enchanted against being destroyed, and transported itself away from the fire.”  _

“That’d mean he tried to burn it.” 

_ “The Hydra wants to free the others. It cannot do that if you seal it away again.”  _

“Others?!” Peter yelps, “There are  _ others _ ?!” 

_ “There are six beings of magic. This is not the place to explain this.”  _

“Where are the others?” 

_ “I do not know. I have been tasked with guarding the Hydra. My siblings care for the others.”  _

The boy shakes his head, taking a deep breath and looking around with bright green eyes, “Okay, whatever, we’ll just.. find this thing before it can do any more damage.” 

_ “That would be best.”  _

Sighing, he moves to slowly make his way through the dark tunnels. 

Tony ends up in front of the fountain at the center of the city, drenched from head to toe, the rain lightening up from the downpour. A shiver goes up his back, his skin cold under his clothes. He rubs his arms. “Malek, I hate it when you just disappear, Stephen…” 

“Anthony…” That familiar voice, just as rough and smoky as he remembers, speaks from behind him. 

He whirls around, ripping off his sunglasses, desperate to be near him again. 

He can’t feel him. 

Something else is there instead. 

Not orange. 

Not green. 

Something red. Something sinister. 

Peter is faced with a pair of golden eyes, glowing in the darkness. He swallows hard, slowly raising his light to view the thing. 

It stands tall in front of him, gripping the large book to it’s chest, the Cloak waving quietly behind it, curling around its ankles. It slowly opens its mouth… and speaks. 

“You.. are.. too late.. Prophet.. We are… victorious.. The Burning.. Continues..” 

Peter staggers back a couple steps as the thing steps forward, slowly, feet dragging. It hands him the book, giving the boy an inhuman grin. 

“Release… Us.. Behold… our… true.. potential..” It grabs his wrists, bony fingers burning lightly tanned skin as it presses his hands to the clasps. Its eyes flash orange as it forces a bolt of magic from his hands, Peter crying out and yanking away. 

The seals on the gold clasps glow a deep red. 

Slowly, they click open. 

Tony’s eyes burn. His core whirs in his chest as it tries to keep from overheating. 

He can’t see anything. The vague shapes he’d come to be familiar with are gone, everything blank, like his eyes aren’t there at all. 

Familiar hissing fills his ears, like rattling laughter. “The Guardian tried to hide his power in you, little Warrior. How cute.” 

Orange light fills the dark tunnels, blinding Peter momentarily. He instinctively drops the book and flings his arms up to protect his eyes. 

Uncomfortably warm energy curls itself around him, singeing his clothes and starting to burn into his skin. 

“Thank you.. We will.. remember.. this.. Little Spider..” 

The boy’s small form is dropped to the floor after a moment as the tunnels go dark once again. 


	2. Burning Flesh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **GORE, CONTENT WARNING** This chapter is DARK and involves (vague) descriptions of gore. Discretion is advised. 
> 
> Ethereal Sewer Demons, Familiars, and Mazes, oh my!   
> A Compass points any way but north,   
> Time is silent while Reality reigns, the Soul bides its time to collect its prey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter than Chapter One, but I hope y'all enjoy it anyway <3 Chapter Three is already in the works, don't worry.

Small lungs are weighed down by smoking, charred rubble. Dull green eyes are glazed over with pain, gazing up at a small opening to the outside world. He can’t feel his body. 

He takes in a shuddering breath after a long moment, coughing violently, squeezing his eyes shut in pain. 

An orange glow curls around the edges of the triangle far above him, something huge moving the rubble. He feels the weight lift off his chest, gratefully opening his eyes again… faced with a pair of less than friendly faces. 

Two sets of teeth greet him, a low growl coming from one orange throat as the silent pair of jaws grabs him, closing around his arms and yanking him from the rubble. He cries out in pain as he feels his arms try to dislocate, skin quickly starting to heat up. He’s dropped on the ground, the two heads seeming to inspect him, pinning him down with one heavy clawed foot. 

The boy wheezes at the new pressure on his already frail chest. 

His gaze goes white as he hears the snapping of bones, vaguely feeling his arms burn. 

“...Are you alive?” A strange voice comes into focus in his ears as he pulls himself back into the realm of the living. A hand stops him as he tries to move where he lay. 

“Hey, you’re alive, that’s good. Try not to hurt yourself even more.” The voice sounds relieved. 

He slowly opens his eyes, squinting in bright sunlight filtering through makeshift windows. A blurry figure is looming over him, messy hair accompanied by some sort of glow at chest height. He frowns in confusion at it, trying to raise an arm to shade his face… and finding he can’t. 

The figure shifts to block the sunlight, “Can you talk? What the hell happened? Why were you out in the Burns on your own?” He can make out light blue eyes and tan skin coated with streaks of ash and dirt. There’s a noticeable lack of a shirt, the boy’s chest instead criss-crossed with wires and magic threads, extending from a triangular core at the center of his chest. 

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, gathering himself, “....Lost… I.. got lost… got.. got trapped….” He feels how raw and rough his voice is. 

“You looked like death, y’know,” The boy looming over him reaches to adjust something. He cranes his neck to see the boy is adjusting bandages around his arms, from the elbows down. 

“...Thanks…” He manages sarcastically, “...Who’re.. you…..?” 

“Anthony Starkrest, at your service,” The boy bows, running a hand through his messy hair, “Who do I have the pleasure of saving?” 

“....Stephen…. Strange….” 

“Let’s get you fixed up, then, Stephen.” Tony grins at him, “Mr. Cripple Fingers.” 

He manages an unimpressed look before he feels himself drifting off again. 

Gentle fingers run through his matted hair as everything goes dark. 

. . .

There’s the rhythmic drop of water as he slowly comes to, someplace dark and damp. His skin burns from head to toe, the rubbing of his clothes agonizing. He opens bright orange eyes, forcing his gaze to focus as he tries to sit up. He groans in pain as his clothes scrape his burned skin. 

He manages to sit up, entire body aflame with pain. He tries to summon his magic to light up his surroundings, finding only sparks remain of his powers. 

_ Right… I gave it to him. For safekeeping. _

He blinks blurry eyes, moving slowly to avoid sparking too much pain. It doesn’t work too well. 

He’s startled as something moves nearby in the dark, the sound of clothing shifting on the stone floors. He turns toward it, moving slowly, somewhat dragging himself toward the sound. 

“...Hello..?” He rasps, feeling his long hair fall over his face. He starts to make out subtle shades in the darkness, picking out the crumpled form near him as it shifts. He reaches to gently touch the figure, wincing as his skin burns with the contact. Through the pain he feels soft cloth and a cold, smooth metal. He flinches back again as the figure moves under his hand. 

The boy groans softly, slowly blinking bright green eyes up at him. They’re full of confusion for a long moment, before they open wide, the boy frantically scrambling away from him, “Are you- What the Candor-“ 

“Hey… Calm down… Are.. you okay…?” He coughs, feeling how dry his throat is. 

The boy slowly calms down, “I’m.. Everything kinda hurts, but.. I’m okay, I guess?” He looks confused. 

“What’s your name…?” Stephen reaches to try and help the boy up. 

“Uh.. Peter? Peter Parker?” The small wizard slowly gets up, helping the tall man to his feet. Stephen has to lean heavily on his smaller counterpart. 

“Nice.. Nice to meet you.. I’m Stephen…” He mumbles hoarsely. 

“Are you the same Stephen that disappeared?” 

“I..Guess I am…. Do you know Tony..?” 

“He’s my mentor,” Peter pauses, “Oh my God, is he okay? Where did the Hydra go? How long have I been out? Oh no-“ He jumps away, Stephen stumbling after him, hitting the wet floor again with a thump and a shockwave of pain through his body. 

He hears the footsteps rapidly retreating as Peter runs away, failing to fight off the wave of exhaustion following the pain. 

. . . 

Stephen wakes up to a cold but soft nose nudging his face, cracking his eyes open to be greeted by a buck face sniffing at him. The deer pulls back a bit as Stephen moves, ears and a crown of feathers around tall antlers perking up as round blue eyes gaze at him. 

He knows this face. 

“Hey, Wong… I was wondering where you went…” 

Peter skids to a stop in the middle of the empty street, the rain having stopped for now, leaving only a dark sky above the city. 

Heart pounding, he looks around, mind muddled by worry and panic, everything happening at once. 

He’s pulled out of his spiral as he feels something move in his shirt, something very indignant and loud. 

“Loki! You’re still here!” Peter exclaims, pulling the collar of his hoodie away from his chest, looking down to be greeted by a less than happy black ball and green eyes, loud meowing coming from this angry piece of the void. He pulls the large cat out of his shirt, cuddling him close, “Oh my god, are you okay? Did you get burned?” 

The cat squirms in his grip as he checks him over. For the most part, the black cat is fine, if a bit ruffled. 

Loki squirms out of his arms, yowling loudly at him, moving to head down one of the streets. Peter follows after a moment, figuring the magically inclined cat has a solid idea of what he’s doing. He hopes. 

The indignant ball of fluff leads him out to the main plaza, sniffing at something on the ground. Kneeling down, he gingerly picks up a small artifact, something bronze, laced with bright green streaks and runes. It’s warm in his hand, buzzing with soft, gentle energy. It’s almost familiar, this energy… he can’t put his finger on it. 

He shakes his head slightly, trying to clear his thoughts, focusing back on the artifact itself. It resembles a type of ring, more like two rings stuck together, the knuckle side offering a flat portion. 

“A ring…?” 

_ “A sling ring. Interesting…”  _

“What’s interesting?” 

_ “It seems to be imbued with a unique magic. Mortal magic.”  _

“Huh…” He hums, looking at it curiously. It’s comforting in his hand. “I wonder who’s magic it is…” 

Stephen sits against the wall of the sewer tunnel, exhausted and in pain, his large familiar nosing at his face. He manages to pat the deer creature’s nose, the only noise being his breathing and his familair’s hooves and claws on the concrete. He startles as something shuffles in the darkness, the sound of cloth rustling coming from nearby. 

He peers into the darkness, squinting, somewhat adjusted to the low light. An amorphous shape moves nearby, something odd. Not human, not animal… 

Wong at his side gives the thing a curious look, but doesn’t seem to be threatened by whatever it is. Stephen takes a bit of solace in the idea that it’s not lethal. He hopes. 

The form moves again, rising up a bit from the floor. He picks out more of the shape, looking almost like a blanket. 

He blinks as he recognizes the shape, metal clasps glinting in what little light there is coming from the grates far above them. 

Peter paces in the dorm lobby, combing through the pages of the journal for anything that might be helpful, anything that would let him locate the Hydra.. or Tony. 

“Come on… there has to be something…” He flips through the pages again, scanning the notes and spells frantically. 

_ “Another is coming. Hide, quickly!”  _

Peter feels his body respond before his brain has a chance to, putting the book away in his jacket and ducking into a hidden corner, bright green eyes peeking to look at the front doors. 

A tall, red headed woman strides through the doors, flipping her hair over one shoulder as she looks around the lobby, eyes hidden by sharp triangular sunglasses. Inhumanly stiletto heels click on the tile as she steps toward the front desk. 

“Is Peter Parker here? I’m his aunt, I heard the dormitory caught on fire.” 

. . . 

“So, do I get to ask what all the stuff coming out of you is for while my arms heal?” Stephen tries to gesture with one bandaged forearm, “You look like something out of a fantasy book.” 

Tony looks down at his chest and arms, light blue eyes reflecting the glow of his accessories. Energy flows in and out of the triangular core in his chest, rhythmically, resembling some sort of bizarre heartbeat. Trace tubes slip down his arms and legs, though only the top half of the system is visible in his skin. 

“I’m working on making it more subtle. Science is a thing too, y’know.” He huffs, “It’s what kept you from bleeding out.” 

“That thing in your chest is not all science. And you didn’t answer my question.” 

“I assumed it was obvious what it’s for. It’s not like the big honkin’ core is right where my heart should be or anything.” 

Stephen rolls his eyes, “If you don’t wanna tell me why you have it, you can just say so. I’m not about to force you to give me sensitive information.” 

“Let’s just say we’re both in the infirmary for good reason,” Tony shrugs, “I’m helping the doc out since I can’t leave anyway.” 

“Doesn’t seem like this place is busy enough to warrant help.” 

“Doc is out most of the time to make sure people come back alive enough for us to fix,” The older boy raises an eyebrow. 

Stephen grimaces, “Right… Hey, how did I get here, anyway?” 

“Some weird deer thing brought you to the doc. It bit him and then flew off.” 

“That’s.. definitely normal.” 

“Nothing is normal about anything outside the camp.”

Stephen cranes his neck to look around the infirmary tent again, seeing the ash sweeping in from under the door flaps. He coughs, wincing as his lungs burn. He feels Tony adjust one of the tubes running under his bandages, gentle fingers running under the edge of his bandages. He swallows hard at the unexpected touch, glancing back at the boy next to his bed. 

Tony looks quiet and focused as he tends to the equipment, both Stephen’s and his own. He sits back down in the chair next to Stephen’s bed, reaching to tend to the core in his chest. Stephen winces subconsciously as he watches Tony’s fingers open up the core and reach in. 

“Doesn’t that hurt?” 

“Huh? Does what hurt?” His companion looks up. 

“That. The whole…” He vaguely gestures with his chin toward the other boy’s chest, “Tech thing.” 

“Oh. Uh… I guess it’s a little uncomfortable sometimes. I just got used to it, I think.” He pulls out a small crystal, his core’s whirring beginning to slow down. He very quickly cleans the crystal off with a spare cloth and delicately sets it back into the core, a subtle shudder running up his body as the system is reenergized. 

Stephen is quiet for a long moment as he watches. “...Does it keep you alive?” 

“I.. guess you can say that. I have maybe an hour without it on.” The older boy mumbles. 

“And… what’s that crystal?” 

“Just something I found a while ago.. I dunno what it is exactly.”

. . . 

Stephen lets the cloak settle back around his shoulders, finding the weight oddly comforting. 

“Okay… lets.. see what I’ve missed..” He moves to try and stand, feeling.. lighter than he should. He blinks, looking at his familiar in confusion. 

The peryton looks back at him, silent as always. He feels the cloak lightly squeeze his shoulders. 

“Oh? Are you helping me out?” He looks down at the red fabric around his shoulders. 

Something gives him a sense of happiness in the back of his mind. 

He smiles a bit, “So you are sentient…. guess all that time was just as painful for you, huh…?” 

A sense of agreement comes from the garment. 

“Will you help me fix all this?” 

He’s overcome with a sense of excitement. 

“Then… let's go.” He moves to climb onto his familiar, painfully hoisting himself up onto the deer’s back, “Can you help me up to the surface, Wong?” 

Wong stretches feathered forelegs and wings, shaking out his neck and moving to tap through the tunnels, finding a suitable place to get back up onto the surface. The creature pushes the grate aside, climbing back up with claws and hooves, Stephen clinging to his feathers. 

Stephen tilts his head back as he feels the warm, damp air of the surface, taking a deep, if painful, breath. “Malek.. I missed this…” 

Peter peeks around the corner, at the red headed woman. 

_ “Your memories have not mentioned this ‘Aunt’ woman.”  _

“Because I don’t have a red headed aunt.” Peter hisses under his breath, “Especially not one like that.” 

_ “I was able to sense her magic. That is peculiar for mortal magics to be strong enough for us to sense.”  _

“Well, she’s either a powerful wizard pretending to be my aunt, or something worse.” He ducks back behind the beam as the woman turns around. 

_ “Let us hope she is mortal.”  _

“That really gives me confidence that she is.” He rolls his eyes, looking to peek back around the corner. 

The woman is still talking with the person at the front desk, arms crossed as she’s presumably told Peter isn’t in the building. 

“I’m worried about my nephew! He wasn’t here when the building burned, was he? Is he alright?” Her voice is sultry and smooth, even with an overtone of concern. 

“Ma’am, I assure you he and his familiar were out of the building when the fire started. The fire department doesn’t know what exactly caused the fire, but for the moment we’re having the building on shut down to check the gas pipes.” The exasperated desk worker reassures her. 

“Do you know where he is?” 

“I’m afraid I cannot tell you directly where the students have been relocated to, but I’d be glad to give him a message for you if you give me your name.” 

“Hmph. Alright,” She huffs, shifting her weight on her stilettos, “I’m his aunt May. May Parker.” 

“...I don’t have an aunt May..” Peter mumbles, “Last relative I knew about was Uncle Ben.” 

_ “You have memories of an older man. He seemed to be close with your mentor.”  _

“Tony is my godfather, I think. He adopted me when my uncle died.” 

_ “Hm…”  _

Peter ducks down to hide as he hears the sharp stiletto heels click back toward the door, waiting until the footsteps fade back outside. 

“Well.. that was close.” 

_ “I suggest we avoid that woman if we are to continue our mission.”  _

“Agreed.” Peter sneaks over into the elevator, waiting silently until the door shuts behind him to pull out the ring from his pocket, “Do I get to know how to use this now? We lost the big ass book.” 

_ “I may be able to teach you how to use a sling ring, yes.”  _

“Finally, a real lesson in magic!” Peter exclaims, exasperated. 

He feels judgement from Motto. 

“I’m not apologizing.” 

_ “We know. Please just get somewhere secluded so we can practice discreetly.”  _

“I’m going, I’m going.” He sighs as the elevator doors open to the fifth floor, stepping out into the still-smoky hall. He coughs, “Is this good enough? Everyone else got moved.” 

_ “This will suffice, we suppose.”  _

“Back to the ‘we’ again, huh?” 

_ “Many of us are needed to teach you the intricacies of the sling ring.”  _

“I… guess that makes sense.” He looks down at the still-warm ring in his palm, the runes glowing a soft green. He looks over the bronze accessory with bright green eyes, “Why is it so warm?” 

_ “The energy within heats up the metal. A normal sling ring is not this warm.”  _

“Huh. Is that why humans are so warm? Our natural internal magic? Are living things only warm because of natural magic?” 

_ “Please stay focused.” _

“Right, yeah.” He slips the ring on slowly, onto his left index and middle fingers. It magically adjusts to fit his fingers. He flexes his hand a few times, finding it surprisingly comfortable and barely inhibiting at all. “So how do I use this thing?” 

_ “We will begin with a simple portal.” _

Stephen sits on the edge of the fountain, looking up into the cloudy sky. He tries to ignore the large bloodstain on the concrete near his feet, the long claw marks across the plaza, the blood trail leading back into the city. 

“Nothing is like I remember… How am I supposed to help him?” He runs bony hands through scraggly hair, “Malek.. what am I supposed to do?” 

He looks up as he hears the clicks of Wong’s claws and hooves landing back on the concrete. The peryton shakes his head and neck, coming back up to him and nuzzling his cheek. He pats his soft nose. 

“Hey, bud, find anything?” 

The creature clicks at him, ears flicking. 

He makes himself look at the blood trails and claw marks. “Something took him… Was something else released?” 

The silence as he thinks — or rather, worries — is broken by the frantic fluttering of feathers and loud cawing, something light with small talons landing on his shoulder with a whacking of feathers in his face. 

He spits the feathers out of his mouth, leaning his head away from the offender, “What the- Jarvis?” 

The crow caws at him, hopping up and down on his shoulder. The cloak does not appreciate being jumped on. 

Stephen reaches to have Jarvis step onto his hand instead, setting him on his lap, “What’s up, Jarvis? Is it Anthony? Do you know where he is? What happened to him?” 

“Red! Red Red Red!” Jarvis squawks, “Red and spiky! Dark! Tunnels!!” 

“What did ‘red’ look like?” 

“Large spikes! Scaly! Dangerous!” The bird flaps his wings frantically, shedding black feathers, “Tunnels! Tunnels tunnels!” 

“Where? Tunnels where?” 

“Under! Underground! Blood! Fog! Maze!” The crow hops around in a circle on his thin knees. 

Stephen slowly, hesitantly, looks down to the concrete beneath his feet. “Anthony…” 

Something cackles, in the distance, something ancient, something delighting in pain. 

“Hey, I think I’m finally getting the hang of this,” Peter’s words of confidence are immediately undermined by the portal inches from his hands snapping closed with a spray of sparks and a loud pop, Peter stumbling back in surprise. 

_ “Try again. Adjust your circular motion. Steady your hands.”  _

“Easier said than done when the fate of the world is in the balance.” 

_ “Perhaps you require a more specific target.”  _

“Like what?” 

_ “A location you are very familiar with. Your childhood home, a room you spend much time in, something like that.”  _

“Uhh… what about Tony’s office? I’ve been there plenty of times.” 

_ “That may work. Try again.”  _

Taking a deep breath, the boy wizard raises his hands again, slowly beginning to trace a circle into the air. The red circle spirals back into existence in front of him, slowly widening as the energy picks up speed, Peter speeding up his movements with it. 

The red circle of sparks opens up to an image of Tony’s office in the staff building. Peter quickly steps through, turning to close the portal behind him in a controlled way, the red spiraling back into a small ball of energy, then dispersing. The boy grins. 

“Finally! I got it!” 

_ “Excellent work. Perhaps our timeline for preparation is shorter than we anticipated.”  _

“I told you I’m a fast learner,” Peter turns to look around the dark office, his smile slowly fading. 

_ “We do not recall you saying anything of the sort.” _

Peter ignores the voice, slowly stepping in the office, turning a circle. The office is a mess, papers everywhere, drawers left open, the perch knocked over and the desk lamp off the desk and on the ground. 

“What… happened here…?” 

Stephen quietly tames the anxious bird in his lap with gentle head scratches as he thinks. Jarvis clicks happily with the pets, settling on his thighs. Wong has gone to patrol the area, though the peryton is staying close by enough to protect his partner. The rain has started to lighten up somewhat, the clouds harboring a subtle red tint. 

Stephen circles through his thoughts, trying to decide what to do. 

_ What am I going to do? Anthony, why couldn’t I just find you first? Malek, what have we gotten ourselves into? I can’t come find you, I can barely stand on my own..  _

His stomach growls, as he’s reminded by the water dripping down his face how thirsty he is, how hungry he is. He looks up, looking around for anything nearby that might offer food or water… 

And suddenly he realizes how different everything is. 

Where there were heaps of smoking rubble, are now tall buildings, dirt roads paved with stones under his feet, nothing the way he remembers it. The fountain is rebuilt, the statue now a replica of the Dragon of Creation, Malek. Buildings are built where tents were before, former cabins now refined. 

Nothing is how he remembers.. None of the architecture is the same.. 

Just how long has he been with the creature…? 

He shivers as he remembers where he’s been for however long, a place of orange webs and golden chains. 

And oh, so, so much pain… and that voice… Those. Voices. 

He never wants to hear those voices ever again. 

Stephen is snapped out of his thoughts by Wong’s soft nose pushing at his face. He reaches to pet the deer creature, letting himself relax a bit as he feels the stones beneath his feet again. 

“Okay… lets go find our stupid idiot,” He reaches to climb back onto his familiar’s back, scarred and shaky fingers clinging to feathers. The peryton stretches his wings in anticipation. 

“Into the sewers, Wong.” He pats his neck. 

Both the peryton and the cloak around his shoulders are unhappy with this decision. 

“Don’t give me that. He’s more important than that.” 

He is promptly doused in doubt. 

“I can always just go by myself, you don’t have to come with me.” 

The peryton shakes out his neck, snorting and taking to the skies. 

Stephen covers his face as they plunge back into the underground, through a manhole cover. 

Peter digs through the carnage in the office, hoping he doesn’t find any sign of a break in and Tony was just in a rush, ignoring Agomotto’s voice in his head. 

_ Peter.  _

_ Peter!  _

“PETER!”

He jumps as he hears a voice behind him, whipping around to face the speaker. 

MJ stands in the doorway, arms crossed and eyebrow raised, “What the Candor have you been doing in here? I thought there was a burglar or something.”

“MJ! I, uh, I can explain,” He stutters, hastily dropping the object in his hands. The metal object drops with a thud, Peter yelping as it lands first on his foot and then onto the floor. 

MJ snickers. 

“This isn’t what it looks like, I swear, it uh… was like this when I walked in,” He tries to fumble for a valid excuse. 

She rolls chocolate brown eyes, stepping into the room, putting long curly hair back in a ponytail. She walks over to where Peter stands by the desk, reaching to grab the small artifact from its place on the floor. Peter takes a step back as she straightens back up with the thing in her hands, watching her as she inspects it. 

“I, uh, was trying to figure out what that was,” He hastily explains, “It looks like a compass, but the directions are all off.” 

She purses her lips, turning it over in her hands, quiet for a tense moment, “Oh, I know what this is.” 

He blinks in surprise, green eyes vibrant even in the dark, “What is it?” 

“It’s a Tempor Compass. Or a very good replica of one. They used these hundreds of years ago to navigate the Burns.” 

“Like, the wastelands that used to be everywhere? How would a broken compass help?” 

“Jeez, you think the history protege would pay more attention in history class.” She snorts, cradling the compass in delicate hands. 

“I pay attention in class,” He whines, “I just don’t remember very many artifacts.” 

She rolls her eyes at him, “Suuure, that’s the reason. It’s a compass that follows the six Spirits’ energies. Supposedly, the points glow with whatever energy is closest. Each point is a different energy.” 

They both look at the carved metal artifact for a long moment, both jumping in surprise when the star in the center jolts to life, spinning frantically a few times before it settles down again. Three points are lit. 

One green, the brightest, pointing at Peter himself. 

One orange, somewhat faint, pointing somewhere past Peter. 

One red. It shifts back and forth, seeming to drag along the metal beneath it. 

MJ has wide eyes as she watches, “Well… I guess it’s not a replica.” 

. . . 

A small form darts through a maze of rubble and smoke, coughing up ash and soot, a darkly stained hand covering an equally filthy face. Quickly ducking into a nook, the boy pulls out a palm-sized metal object, groaning softly at seeing the points flickering and jerking around. 

“Stupid thing… Come on, work!” He hisses, slapping the compass. It flickers and sparks in his hands, before going completely dark and still. “Shit.” 

_ “Is someone there? A soul I hear, lost in my territory?”  _ He holds his breath and ducks deeper into the nook as he hears the hissing, ethereal voice echo nearby. Too close for comfort. 

_ “Won’t you answer, little one? Come greet me.” _ A humming fills his ears as something dark red and slick slithers by outside, long and pointy claws scraping along the ground.  _ “I so love the company of mortals. _ ” 

He holds his breath, feeling his heart pound in his chest and his blood rush in his ears, wide green eyes watching the giant creature slip by. It moves slowly, a long and slim form, tail dragging back and forth along the ash-covered ground. Ash and soot swirls up into the air in clouds as it passes, obscuring his gaze and making his eyes sting. He squints, covering his mouth with his hands to suppress a cough, his eyes watering. 

It seems like an eternity as he waits for the creature to move on. He waits until the footsteps fade completely to breathe again, gasping for air for a moment before he digs his compass back out, trying to read it. 

It’s still dark, only a flicker of blue pointing him in the direction he’d already been heading. 

“Camp of Malek.. I’m so close..” He whispers hoarsely, “Please let them still be alive..” 

. . . 

“You’re sure it's in the sewers?” MJ sounds incredulous as their footsteps splash in the damp underground, a few yellow lanterns following them both in the dark. 

“Positive. It’s where the compass is pointing, at least.” Peter’s chin is practically against his chest as he peers at the compass in his hands, focusing on the red point. “A little hard with the point moving all the time though.” 

“Hm.. I’ve never heard of anything in the sewers before. Why are we searching for it?” 

“It.. it's a long story. Maybe you should go back up, MJ.” He stops, looking up at her, “All this is dangerous.” 

“As if you can defend yourself? Come on, we both know you were the worst at combat,” She huffs, crossing her arms as she turns to face him. 

“I can handle myself!” He protests. 

“Against ethereal sewer demons?” 

“I.. well.. it’ll be fine…” 

“Uh-huh. Sure. I’m coming with you,” She turns back around, continuing down the dark hall. 

Peter jumps to catch up as the lanterns follow her, not wanting to be left in the dark. Puddles catch the lights as they walk, sparkling, reflecting the yellow energy. Their footsteps leave ripples in the pools of water. 

The sewers is silent as they walk, echoing the sounds of their breaths and footsteps back at them, the compass pointing through the winding, maze-like tunnels. At a certain point, Peter is jolted out of his focus on the compass by MJ stopping him dead in his tracks with a firm hand on his chest. 

He looks up, mouth opening to question it, her other hand slapped over his mouth with a hissed “Shh!”. He gives her a confused look, but he quickly realizes why, hearing a second pair of footsteps nearby in the tunnels. 

Odd, stuttering steps, almost zombie-like, or like someone in crutches is wading through the puddles. 

The intersection in front of them is the source of it, something coming down the right path. MJ’s lanterns flicker back out of existence, plunging them into darkness as it steps into the intersection, stopping to look around. 

Peter recognizes the flowing cloak and long hair. Pulling MJ’s hand from his mouth, he calls out to it. “Hello?” 

The figure startles, turning toward them, “Who’s there?” 

“It’s me, Peter Parker!” He summons a few red lanterns of his own, casting a dull light around him and MJ. 

Stephen relaxes a bit at seeing the kids, “Oh. Hey. Why are you here? Kids shouldn’t be in the sewers.” 

“We’re looking for Mr. Starkrest,” Peter pats MJ on the shoulder reassuringly, looking back at her. 

She’s wary, confused by the entire situation. “Mind telling me what’s going on?” She eyes Stephen, keeping a hand protectively on his arm. 

“I.. uh… remember how I said it’s a long story?” Peter mumbles. 

“We have time, the sewers are massive.” She huffs at the boys, “So spill it.” 

The young wizard and the old wizard look at each other, both unsure how to explain it all. 

“I might be able to be of assistance with that,” Stephen offers, “It would be better if we searched together. The Red Spirit is… not one to take on alone.” 

“The Red Spirit?? You mean Candor? Reality itself?” MJ yells, incredulous. 

“Please calm down, our best bet is to work together and be as quiet as possible,” Stephen raises shaky hands in a calming gesture. 

MJ scowls at him, looking back at Peter. 

Peter doesn’t meet her gaze, clearing his throat, “..I mean… He would know what he’s doing…” 

“Urgh. Fine.” She huffs, stalking past them both to venture deeper into the labyrinth, “Now, you better explain the exact shit going down.” 

“I sent my familiar, Wong, to scout topside. Perhaps he can spot the Cage for Reality from up there.” Stephen limps along beside the two young wizards in the darkness, feeling the Cloak keeping him on his feet. It gives him a comforting feeling as they traverse the darkness. 

“What would it look like?” Peter hums, unconsciously holding MJ’s hand. Definitely not because he’s scared of the dark. 

“Could be anything now, if the Temple is disguised like you say. Only the top of the Cage was visible above ground back then… perhaps something in a park? A monument?” The old wizard theorizes. He stops dead after a moment, “...Oh dear Malek.” 

The teens stop and turn to face him. “What is it?” MJ asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“I know what it is.” The color has drained from his face, bright orange eyes wide with horror. 

“Are you going to share? Are you alright?” MJ steps back toward him. 

“...It’s the fountain.”

.

.

.

Tony slowly comes to, face burning, like the skin around his eyes is peeling away. He winces, trying to reach to heal his wounds. His movement is stopped by something wrapped around his wrists, thin and painful, like barbed wire. 

He tries to blink and see in the darkness around him, forcing himself to squint into the darkness. Everything is pitch black, surreally black, almost like he isn’t seeing at all. He focuses on where he feels his hand is, trying to summon a bright spark of some kind. He grits his teeth in pain and frustration as his magic barely offers anything, drained, his energy low. 

Ignoring the barbed wire around his throat, he tries to look down, seeking comfort in the familiar golden glow of his core. 

He can’t see that either. There is no glow, no pulse of his artificial heartbeat. Panicking, he reaches up under his shirt to feel his core, feeling the heat and rhythm of the energy under his calloused hand. 

“Thank Malek… I’m not dead yet.” He whispers to himself, his voice rough and dry, “Yet being the operative word.” 

He leans down, trying again to touch his face. 

He immediately regrets it, yanking his hand away in disgust as his fingers touch something painful and  _ wet _ , definitely not skin, warm liquid leftover on his fingertips. 

He tries not to think too hard about what it is, suddenly aware of the warm liquid covering the top half of his face and dripping down his neck. 

_ “I’m so glad you were able to wake back up, little one. I’ve missed the delicious taste of mortals.”  _

.

.

.

Stephen pants as he sprints through the tunnels, lungs burning, pants soaked from the knees down from sewer water as he splashes in puddles. He vaguely hears the two lighter sets of footsteps behind him, keeping pace. 

“Mr. Stephen, wait!” Peter calls behind him, finally grabbing the Cloak and managing to slow him down. 

He skids to a stop, turning to face the teenager. “What is it?” 

Peter holds up the compass, “It’s not this way! We’re going in the wrong direction!” 

The older wizard freezes at the sight of the lit compass points. “Where did you get that?” 

“It.. It was in Mr. Starkrest’s office. Why?” Peter takes a small step back, suddenly unsure about his company. 

“That’s mine. It.. hasn’t worked since I last had it.” He shakes his head, “Nevermind. I know this labyrinth. This is the way we need to go to get to the Cage.” 

“The compass points in the opposite direction. We should follow it.” 

“No. The compass will lead you to Candor. Not to the Cage.” 

“But wouldn’t it be in the Cage?” Peter lowers the compass again, watching him. 

“Not if it has Anthony. It has a lair in the labyrinth that moves around. The Cage stays static. It would keep him in the Cage, I’m sure of it.” 

Determined neon orange eyes meet unsure neon green. 

MJ interrupts the tense moment, “Look, he’s our best bet right now for getting into and  _ out of _ this place in one piece.” She steps between the two, lightly pushing them away from each other, “So we’ll follow you until you give us a reason not to. Okay?” She pointedly looks between them, “Sound like a plan?” 

The boys mumble in agreement. 

“Good. Lead the way, Mr. Strange,” She sighs, gesturing in the direction they’ve been running. 

“R.. Right..” Stephen gives Peter a confused look, but turns and starts to limp back down the hallway. 

Thin red eyes follow their silhouettes, a light, yet grating chuckle blending in with their footsteps. 

.

.

.

_ “They are quite determined to find you, little one.” _ That voice scrapes in his ears, like metal on metal. Tony can’t help but wince. 

“They’ll.. They will find me, I’m sure of it..” He feels the uncertainty in his words, “Might as well just.. let me go, Candor…” 

His core whirs, working hard and fast to combat the blood leaking from his face. It’s getting hard to stay conscious. 

_ “Oh, but that would be no fun, now wouldn’t it?”  _ Something slithers up around him, the hot wires around his wrists tightening, forcing them up over his head. Equally heated claws dig into his chest. 

He clenches his jaw in pain. 

_ “I’m afraid you have the wrong power source, little Warrior. You should return it.”  _

The thin crystals covering the inner core crack. 

Tony sucks in a breath, artificial heartbeat suddenly pounding much faster. “Give… Give me time to replace it.. Please..” 

_ “You live on borrowed time, Red Warrior.”  _ Something slimy briefly slides around his throat.  _ “You have no right to use a piece of us to defy us.”  _

“I.. I can’t go yet… Let me.. Let me see him.. Feel him.. Something… first…” He begs. Salty tears sting the painful areas under his eyes, “I have to tell him…” 

. 

.

There’s the sound of shattering glass as sharp claws plunge into a beating blue core. 

A scream of pain echoes into the labrynthine halls. 


End file.
